


Children Of The Sun and Moon

by Sitical



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Adventures, Alliances, Children of Characters, Damen's Vaskian Kids - Freeform, Dramatic, Kid Fic, Laurent's child, Multi, Peeping, Post-Kings Rising, Tag As I Go, little bit of romance, new countries introduce, sad stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-20 06:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 101,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sitical/pseuds/Sitical
Summary: Dear Your Majesty, King Laurent of Akielos-Vere.I have wonderful news. We appear to have an heir together. As planned, I will travel to Marlas one month before the due date to give birth.We estimate the due date to be early May. A spring child sounds lovely does it not? I predict he will be as lovely as you are and will bring much joy to you and your family.Do not stress yourself in this time. I will take care. He is my family's heir as well.Take care.Sincerely,KD





	1. The Sun Broke Through The Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> What is up my fellow CaPri peeps. I am splitting my focus now between two fics. This one and Pinpricked.  
> If you've read pinpricked, you'd know I don't have any sense of where I'm going or what I'm doing with my story. At all. This is going exactly like that.  
> I was inspired to write this after reading a fanfic or two about Damen's Vaskian children. And I, for some reason, had wanted to write a story about that. Mixed in with a want to see a child that is Laurent's. Because why not.  
> That being said, I may change a thing or two SLIGHTLY, here and there.  
> I am an inconsistent writer, and I straight up admit it. And I apologize beforehand for it.  
> I didn't want this to be super long, but here it is.  
> I may speed things up, within the next chapter or two. I've got it in my head to see these kids grown already. And honestly, i need to slow my ass down.  
> So here we are. Let's get this shit started. I sincerely hope it doesn't suck as much as I think it does.  
> And now I'll end here.  
> Enjoy.  
> Let me know what you think. Should I continue?? I probably would anyway, cuz fuck it.

A great palace of white warmed in the morning light, casting a great shadow over the waking city of Ios. Centuries of great Akielon Kings and Queens resided here; Damianos, being the current king, no longer called Ios his home - as that title belonged to Marlas - but the history and comfort always remained in this palace. Summers were spent here, basking in the blazing suns rays and remembering days that had long since passed.

Four years since he was crowned king of Akielos. Four years had passed since the unification process began. Four beautiful, prosperous years with his beloved. A lovely Veretian blonde with a viperous tongue and piercing blue eyes. And three years since the coming of his two sons, Damocles and Isocrates. The two boys were very much like their father, from appearance to personalities. Though, it could also be determined that it was the Vaskian blood that ran through their veins as well. Either way, it kept their household’s hands busy. The three-year-olds were well behaved in the eye of company, but when the palace was empty of all but those that were permanent residents, they were as wild as untamed horses. It was hard to stay mad at them however with those beautiful light brown eyes and tousled curls, even if that was the fifth vase in two months.

Damen was surprisingly the stricter parent when it came to disciplining them. Which was why when he heard giggles in the hall outside of the king’s chambers, and then a crash, clattering of ceramic on marble floors, he groaned tiredly. Laurent, as good as he was with kids, was just no good at scolding. So typically, the disciplining was his alone to deal with. Laurent was already awake, sitting at the other end of the room in his reading chair, looking over some parchments. The blonde hadn’t even bothered to look up after hearing the crash, just continuing on as if his two sons were not being carelessly reckless just outside their rooms.

“You should probably go handle that.” Damen opened his eyes at this. He glanced at the blonde, a bit of pout on his lips and a raised brow. “Perhaps you should learn how to scold them.”

The blonde still did not raise his eyes, but rather the goblet of water to his lips to take a leisurely drink before answering his sleepy husband. “Why, so I can look like the bad guy to our darling boys?” Laurent had very little tone in his voice, but Damen could tell he was being slightly sarcastic and playful.

“Laurent.”

Blue eyes finally lifted from the papers in hand, examining the body still lying in bed before a light sigh was released.

“Fine.” He said, tone pitched high, acting as though his hand were being forced. It was. Damen wasn't going to let him off this time for slacking on reprimanding their children.

“Don’t let them off easy. They’ll walk all over you.”

“Perhaps that is what I want.” 

The blonde was still in his long sleep shirt, so that meant he would have to change. Damen wondered what he would decide to wear while here in Ios. A chiton was rare of him to wear, even when deep into Akielon populated areas. But, he would need to dress quickly before the boys could run off to hide.

Damen smirked when he saw Laurent come back from the adjoining room wearing a long, almost feminine chiton. It was haltered at the neck with a silver ring, the fabric creased and flowed down to his past his knees. A thin silver chain was double-looped at his waist, cinching the chiton.

Laurent didn’t even look over to him as he approached the doors, walking through when they were opened before him.

A few more moments passed before Damen decided to get up and start the day. He didn't take much time to dress make himself presentable. And when he finally entered the hall, he was rather pleased to see boys having just finished cleaning up their mess. Laurent stood nearby, arms crossed, a watchful eye over the children while they worked.

The boys, hearing their Papa's large footsteps, turned around with wide eyes.

"Will it happen again?" Damen asked his sons, who bowed their heads low in shame.

"No..."

Damen looked to Laurent, who looked a little sour about having to berate his sweet but reckless sons.

"Very good.

Next was breakfast in the dining hall. The two boys were acting far more behaved. How long that would last, no one knew, but it was best to enjoy it while it lasted. Laurent seemed confident that it would last for a while, which made Damen even more curious as to what he had said to them.

After breakfast, Damen was pulled away for business, so Laurent took it upon himself to take the boys out to the courtyard.

Though they were young, having only just turned three a half year ago, they were intelligent and loved a good rough play. Typically, it was Damen that took them out to rough around each day, teaching them how to fight and to tire out their seemingly endless energy. But, Laurent felt it was time he started involving his own influences on the boy's lives.

Small wooden swords had been made recently for small wielding hands, knowing that their training would begin very soon. And the two toddlers were entirely ready for it, eager to begin wielding swords as they’d seen their Papa do often. They hadn’t expected their Daddy to be the first one to place swords in their hands, but nonetheless, they were still impassioned to wield.

And there they were, Laurent kneeling behind Damocles, his hands placed over the top of the boys around the wood swords hilt, holding them firmly there.

“Grip it firmly, and never, ever let it go unless that is your intent. This sword is an extension of your own arm. You cannot let go of your own arm, can you?”

Giggles filled the air and a “No” that sounded as if their daddy had said something insane. Laurent smiled a bit, loving the sound of their warm laughs.

“Alright, now, begin like so. Your dominant hand is always atop the other. It provides you strength to swing. Keep it up right in front of you, or downwards. Never straight ahead. That leaves you far too open for your opponent, as you will not have the time to counter or strike.”

After about an hour of explaining, they got into some actual moves.

Laurent had Jord come to help demonstrate, whom obeyed and looked rather apathetic about the whole ordeal. Laurent explained and performed simple attacks on Jord, moving slowly so the children could easily see what he was doing. A few repeats of the moves were done before Damocles was brought over to reenact the moves.

Isocrates, though the same age as Damocles, was slightly smaller than his brother. What he did have going for him was advanced motor skills, so he was a little more accurate when swinging the sword. He never missed once. Damocles was larger, and that was a different advantage, but he was still working on keeping himself steady and coordination.

Damen had returned while Damocles was practicing his moves on Jord, Isocrates standing in front Laurent watching the fight intently, a pale hand resting on brown curls. The large man could not help but smile fondly of his family.

They had not yet worked on sword skills, mostly just hand to hand. And the fact that the boys were behaving so well, and doing as they were told, he just felt so proud. Not to mention the power Damocles was displaying while he slashed at Jord. It was visible that Jord was having to hold his arms tighter to take the blows.

For a second, Damen wondered about his heirs. When the boys had been brought by Halvik to the palace in Ios, she had told them that the boys had been born the same day, of the same hour. But no one was sure which had come first. It was a mess that no one had yet wanted to touch. The councils occasionally pushed for a child to be chosen as Crown Prince, but they managed to avoid it each time thanks to Laurent.

How could they just choose? Both boys were exceptionally good in their own way, and both, through their shown diligence and growing pride, would both be good options. No one knew how choosing one would affect their perfect sibling relationship. Their fathers did not want to ruin them. Auguste had been the perfect elder brother to Laurent, and Damen sometimes had his doubts about his own brother's past intentions after the large unforgettable incident involving him. Their own boys could go down either path. And which choice would be the right one. Which boy to choose, if one at all.

Trying to shake the thought, Damen joined Laurent on the sidelines. The boys were now just messing around and had ganged up on Jord. Pallas had joined in at some point, and it looked like they were playing some sort of game. Jord and Pallas were totally losing.

Laurent had a small smile on his face as he watched their boys learn and thrive with swords so quickly. Damen felt his pride swell as well watching them. He then got the strangest of thoughts come to mind. He knew it'd been discussed once before, but he also knew that sometimes, things changed.

“Have you ever...thought about having one of your own?”

Damen had asked it so suddenly, he suddenly wasn't sure if he should have just kept it to himself. The question had taken Laurent completely by surprise by the look on his face.

“Wh-what?” Laurent asked, stuttering just the slightest. The question just blew him away, and now he was wondering if he had even heard him right, or if he really understood what he meant.

“A child...One that...that was of your own blood. That looked like you. Imagine that. A little blonde hair blue eyed beauty toddling around our halls…” Damen imagined aloud to Laurent fondly, trying to coax something out of his lover.

He recalled Laurent having said before that he had no particular taste in women, and that his line would end with him.

Laurent did not want the taint that he knew was within him, to be passed on to another living being. Damen felt as though Laurent thought too much of the subject, and that such a thing would not be passed. But one could never really know. It wouldn't hurt to inquire, now that their lives were further settled down. They had a family now, and strong marriage that bound two countries together.

“My own child? Damen, we’ve spoken of this before.”

“I know. It was just a thought. You know...since we have my own blood and flesh running amuck in our halls.” Damen explained.

“Is that what you would like? A child of mine running around...god only knows how they would be...They could be as cold as I.”

Damen frowned the slightest.

“You were not born cold. We would not let that happen.”

Laurent went quiet, as if in thought, though he still watched the boys go from swordplay to a wrestling match to tickle fest. Pallas was good with these boys, he noticed.

“Perhaps you are right. We’ll discuss further, later.”

And it ended there.

The rest of the day was spent outdoors after lunch. Laurent spent the afternoon reading, lounging under a silk awning, still wearing the chiton he had on in the morning.

Isocrates had at some point come and snuggled up to Laurent’s side on the plush couch, falling into a sun-warmed slumber. Damocles was still off some ways with Damen, learning new wrestling moves, his energy never seeming to fade.

When dinner had come around, the boys were called in from where they were playing in the streams in the gardens and brought in to be cleaned up for dinner.

Dinner had come and gone, Laurent having had just a few sips of Damen's wine before they retired to their rooms. The boys had already been put to bed, so they did not have to worry about them.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

Laying in their large bed, the drapes allowing in the gentle night breezes into the open rooms. It warm, so any breeze was welcomed in.

Laurent was in another bed shirt, slightly shorter than the one before, and Damen, naked.

It was contented and happy silence that they lay there, Laurent half draped over his husband, one large hand placed on his lower back. Their hands intertwined and rested on Damen’s abdomen.

Peaceful.

“A child…” Damen heard Laurent whisper.

“Have you been thinking about it this entire time?” The larger asked, his thumb rubbing across the top of a soft pale hand.

“I have...what else had you had in mind for it?”

Damen blinked, trying to think of anything else he’d come up with before when the thought had come to him.

“It could be Patran...a good way to please our neighbors and Veretians. As well as keep Akielons at bay about the heir situation.

“Why not Akielon?”

“I cannot think of any high born Akielon woman that would want to carry the Veretian king's seed.”

“And a Patran noble lady would?”

“They are not enemies of Vere. Not to mention, you have a friend on the other side of that border.”

Laurent had realized that was true. Torveld could aid them in finding someone. But now for the real problem.

“But I…”

Damen knew at once what the true problem was.

Laurent was not attracted whatsoever to women. He had no real interest in them at all, except as friendly companions.

“I do not know If I could even become aroused enough, nonetheless finish the deed to produce…”

That indeed would be a large predicament. They could not just jump right in, finding someone, only to be unable to complete it. It could be an insult to the woman that would volunteer to provide them the service if Laurent could not even get hard enough to do it in the first place.

They did not want problems.

“Perhaps there may be a way...We just have to find it...if you really want to do this. I do not want you to feel obligated to do it because of me. It was just a thought.”

“I understand that...but I’ve thought of it too...and I...I cannot help but feel that I want it too. Somewhere deep down, I want it. I shall think more upon it. I want this to be right before committing.”

A kiss on a pale forehead. Then another and another.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The next week passed, busy with preparations. A festival was underway the following week and it was important for it to be perfect. They were to be graced with the presence of Prince Torveld of Patras, his own two children and his cousin, who had wanted to enjoy the festivities, as well as the games.

Torveld had called it a bit of a vacation, needing a break from the diplomacies he had been dealing heavily with the past months.

Naturally, he was welcomed with open arms. The boys were excited about the coming guests upon hearing the Prince had children about their age. They did not get to play with other children often, so it was a welcomed visit.

Torveld arrived two days before the festivities began, having left days early in case of any hold-ups on the way. But all had gone smoothly.

The man was happy to meet Damen’s two boys, who commented that they already looked exactly like him. That made the two giddy, hearing that they were already so much like their papa.

Torveld introduced his children. The boy was one year older Damocles and Isocrates. Then the little girl was introduced as Iris. She was the same age as the two boys.

Damocles and Isocrates were both excited to show their guests around, so with the watchful eye of Pallas, who volunteered, they set off to venture the large Akielon palace.

That left Torveld to introduce his cousin, Karla of Hamar. She was a princess of sorts, seeing as Hamar was an independent oceanside province in Patras. She was beautiful with her fair skin, brown hair and light brown eyes, her dress, yellow as sunflower complimenting her complexion.

Things were taken to a sitting room, and all that has happened since they last talked was discussed further in depth. All was well and pleasant until something Damen had not expected had come up.

“About the heir.”

Laurent nodded as though he knew exactly what Torveld was talking about, and Karla nodded knowingly as well. Damen was the only one that felt excluded. He said nothing, however, choosing to listen.

“I have decided to go through with it. I cannot guarantee success, but one cannot know until they have tried.” Laurent declared, and Damen felt like he knew what they spoke of now.

The heir involving Laurent. A princess sat before them.

“Should there be a success, they will be the next in line for the throne of Hamar. Whatever they may be,” explained Karla.

“When will this be commenced?” asked Torvel

“Soon. Things must be prepared beforehand. Tonight if possible.”

An agreement of nods.

Torveld and Karla excused themselves after to take a walk through the gardens and to check on the children.

Damen turned to face Laurent, his eyes narrowed. “You have discussed things with him? And not me?”

Laurent had lifted his cup of cool tea to his lips, taking a sip before placing it back down. He was acting coolly as always, taking his time to reply when he liked.

“You and I have discussed it. I said I would think about it. I have, and I came to my conclusion. So, I began preparations.”

“And you’ve told me nothing.” 

“You know now. Nothing has yet happened.”

Damen’s cheeks puffed just the slightest. Laurent was being difficult as was typical of him.

“So, what is your course of action? You’ve already said before that you might not even be able to perform.”

“I’ve found a way...of sorts.” Laurent picked at his cuticles, as though this were no big deal at all.

“A way? What is this way?” asked Damen, now very curious of what Laurent could have come up with as a solution.

“A new form of conception and I won’t even have to touch her.”

Damen blinked..

“What…?”

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

Laurent explained to Damen that a Physician would do the procedure. Paschal to be more specific, as he was their most trusted physician. 

He also explained that the festival had come at a perfect time. They would not have to plan a second trip to complete the procedure as Torveld and Karla were already here for the festivities. Two birds, one stone. Laurent had it all planned out.

So that night it was.

The rooms had been prepared, a door in between them for the physician.

All they were waiting on now were the two Kings to arrive to begin.

"Where is she on the terms of having this child? Surely there's a chance she'll want to keep it? What will we do then?"

"That is not a worry. Karla has no desire for children, nor a lover to produce any anyways. The child will be solely ours to rear."

“She said that the child will be heir to Hamar. Why is that?"

"She is the sole heir to the throne for the time being. She does not want to rule when her father passes, so the need for another heir is dire. My offer was one she was happy to take up. She carries to term and gets an heir for Hamar, we get a child that is mine and all the rest of the work of rearing them. A winning situation for all, don't you think?”

This really had been a lucky offer for them both, thought Damen. But now, to get the easy part over with, and then the wait.

Laurent sat on the bed after his husband unlaced the ties of daily wear and sat in just the silk shirt and pants. They both knew what they had to do, and they were anxious. 

"We cannot act like this is not something we have not done before," Damen said, kneeling before his lover, prepared to begin.

"You are not the one put on the spot" Laurent snapped lightly, the other knowing it was not meant to be harsh.

When the deed was all done and over with, Laurent let out a small sigh of relief. It would take time before they could find if it had been effective, and Paschal then suggested they try again the next day. Laurent, though seemingly having been stressed over the whole ordeal, was the first to agree. He really, truly wanted this, Damen realized.

Laurent was acting very unlike himself the next day. Though Damen connected that to the fact that they were actively trying to conceive a child. Laurent’s child. His own blood. It made sense. Anyone would be nervous, waiting to find if in the end, all the work of planning it had come to anything. And if they needed to prepare for an infant in the coming months.

That day, after the second round of seed sowing, as Laurent had come to call it, was spent out in the gardens.

A summer tea party, a Veretian tradition this time of year, was ongoing. Nobles and the like were all there, talking of the next day's festivities. Other’s had their focus on the ‘twin’ boys playing nearby, wondering which would be chosen to be the crown prince. Was either of them ever going to be named?

Some people guessed that Damocles would be a larger, far stronger man. He would be the best choice.

But Isocrates was only just smaller than his brother, but was more skilled already in wielding just about anything. He was obviously the one to be chosen.

But then there was more talk on whether they should just have another child to groom directly into being the Crown Prince. They did not want a repeat of the past. Two siblings seemingly fine but fighting all the same for the throne.

None of these were ideal though to the Veretians, however. They were all bastards regardless. Not to mention they looked like Akielons. No matter how many children Damianos would bring into the world, they would look like him, and they would never be good enough for the other half of the population. Bad blood still flowed about this union, but nothing was being done about it. Just passive dislike.

Damen and Laurent did not care, not listening to any of the gossips about them or their children. They would conclude in time about the Crown Prince. They just wanted to raise their two boys into the best men they can be. And hope that the child they were trying to conceive would be healthy, should they come to be born.

The day passed. And the next. The festivities came and went.

The next morning, Torveld and Karla said their goodbyes, with the promise to send word of progress, and they were off.

Laurent spent that day, unable to do much of anything but stare off at nothing. Lost in thought.


	2. In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9 Months Later, and they are blessed with a snow white prince with alot of growing up to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

Weeks had passed. Laurent in the first few days was visibly on edge, in Damen’s eyes. Anyone that did not know Laurent very well would not see his nail-biting type of habits he did when anxious and lost in thought. The paper crinkling, pen tapping, and the occasional hair twirling that would leave his side-parted bangs slightly curled. These habits faded after the first week, and he was back to normal for the most part. Anytime the boys had brought up the visit from Torveld and his kids, however, Laurent would chafe inwards on himself, wearing himself down as before.

Damen did his best to quell his stressed husband, knowing just how much discomfort this wait was bringing the other. A child of his very own. The chances of that child looking exactly like Laurent was great. From what the other had told him, Aleron had been blonde with blue eyes, as had Hennike, his mother. And he recalled detailed stories of the blondes grandfather being as such as well. It was deep in his lineage.

“They...He will be beautiful.” Damen stated as they walked the gardens late into the evening. Laurent had been tense beside him, and Damen knew he was back on the subject again in that vast mind of his.

“The more possible for him to become a viper...Beauty is a curse of that sort.”

Damen frowned at this. He disliked the way Laurent talked about it. He put himself down anytime the subject arose.

“Auguste was not like that.”

Laurent jerked to a stop, wide blue eyes staring at Damen. And Damen suddenly worried if he said the wrong words and had upset him. He recalled Laurent saying something similar, however. Auguste had not been tainted. It sometimes made the brunette wonder just how Aleron was. Had he been anything like his devilish brother had been?

Blue eyes lowered to the path below, a sigh released.

“He wasn’t...but this child. He will be mine. There is no telling how this will turn out. He will be around me constantly...he will see how I am, and the chances of him mimicking me...They are great.”

“Damis and Iso have not.”

Blue met brown again.

“They have been around you since they were 3 months old. You have held them, taught them how to walk, talk. Taught them anything they would need to know. And they are far from being vipers. Children are like sponges. Yes. And I can see a little bit of you in those boys. You are present in them, but not in ways you may think you are. We...no, you have raised them to be good. Very good. Though they do get a little rowdier than normal kids, we all can blame me for that. But the you in them is good. You are the good in them.”

Laurent’s posture had relaxed visibly upon hearing these words. There was no denying any of it. Damen may have done the scolding and teaching of combat. But Laurent had been the one there to teach the more delicate and daily things. He had fine-tuned them in very fine young gentlemen.

“This child...they will be good. And honestly, if he has a quick a tongue as you, I will know he will be okay down the way when he takes part from us to rule his own little kingdom. He will be strong, venomous when he must be, intelligent. And I would be proud of him. As I am of you. And as I know your brother...is.”

Laurent walked the few steps up to Damen slowly. The larger gladly wrapped his arms around him.

“Let us go back inside. Dinner will be ready soon.” Laurent spoke, looking up to his husband once more.

“Very well.”

Word had come a month after the visit. They had moved back to the palace in Marlas in that time, autumn was beginning to settle into the summer greenery, slowly turning green leaves to yellow.

The courier brought the message into the sitting room where Laurent was with his sons, the man handing him the letter. He had been directed to give the parchment to no one but Laurent.

The blonde knew at once what this letter was. He apologized to the boys when he sat up, grabbing a letter open to slice the seal, and unfolded the parchment.

And it read:

_Dear Your Majesty, King Laurent of Akielos-Vere._

_I have wonderful news. We appear to have an heir together. The signs began to show about a week ago, and by the time you receive this letter, it will have been 2 weeks. All seems to be well and healthy so far, being only a month in. I will update you each month how things are going. As planned, I will travel to Marlas one month before the due date to give birth._

_We estimate the due date to be early May. A spring child sounds lovely does it not? I predict he will be as lovely as you are and will bring much joy to you and your family._

_Do not stress yourself in this time. I will take care. He is my family's heir as well._

_Take care._

_Sincerely,_

_KD_  


Laurent felt his heart soaring, and nothing could stop the slight upturn of his lips as he took a deep breath. The boys could not read yet, so they were looking at their daddy, wondering why he was acting so strangely.

It was Damocles that brought Laurent back down to earth, a little hand gripping his brocade vest and tugging a little.

“Daddy? What is the matter? You are acting weird.” He says, giving him a confused look. Laurent looked at the boys with wide eyes for a second before smiling. He sat back, pulling them both close to him once more.

He admired their looks for a moment. Their skin was sun-kissed olive, and in no time, would be as bronzed as their fathers. Damocles had such lovely chocolate eyes and hair like sprinkled cinnamon that curled perfectly atop his head. Isocrates with his light brown eyes, a little speckle here and there of green, and auburn brown hair that lay on his head in waves instead of curls. Though slightly different, they both somehow both still looked exactly like their father.

Their hairstyles reminded him of the distinctive styles Damen had gone through since he had met him. Isocrates slightly longer hair was reminiscent of a Prince Damianos. Valiant, naive, free Damianos. And Damocles, with his perfectly cut head of curls, was like that of current Damen. It was the same Veretian style cut.

His beautiful, loving boys. He wondered how they were going to react to the news. But Laurent supposed there was only one way to find out.

“Damocles...Isocrates...what do you think of having…say...a little brother?” He asks them carefully, watching their faces for a reaction.

Damis cocked his head a bit at the question, blinking a few times, but said nothing. Iso, however, sat up, looking his daddy directly in the eye.

“A little brother? We’re going to have a little brother?” He asked enthusiastically. This gave him hope that the news would be a welcome one.

“Yes, you are. It’ll be a long wait, but it will be worth it.”

“We can teach them everything we know, Damis! We can show them how to use a sword like daddy did! And…”

A gasp. “And how to ride his pony!”

“Yeah!”

Their excitement brought him boundless joy, and he was glad.

“You can teach him how to be good and protect him.”

Both boys nodded with equal grins on their faces. Matching dimples.

“You two will be wonderful elder brothers. I know you will love and care for him greatly.”

After sending the two boys off with a servant to study some lessons, Laurent went to find Damen. He had to tell him now. No waiting. His pace was not the leisurely walk he usually had, but he also was not running, so that was something. He felt so giddy but was restraining himself around the eyes of the others that he passed.

Eventually, he found Damen outside, and surprisingly Nikandros, who he did not know had come to Marlas. They were sparring, and by the looks of it, it was intense. Both were sweating, their knuckles white, fingers red as they gripped their swords. Swipes and thrusts were made at breakneck speeds, the other only just moving out of the swords path each time. It was always interesting watching Damen fight. And even more so when the man’s best friend was his opponent. Both were amazingly talented with a sword, but still, Damen reigned supreme. Nikandros watched as the sword went flying, landing upright, tip buried in the dirt.

“Ah, I’m starting to think you’ve learned how to cheat. There’s no way you can get my sword out in 5 flat seconds each time.”

Seems they had been at this a while.

“Perhaps I’ve just gotten better.”

“Or perhaps you’ve taken a chip off your snakishly good husband.” Nikandros happened to glance over, seeing a starkly dark blue contrast and golden hair.

“Speaking of snakes, there’s one now.”

Laurent was accustomed to being called as such, encouraging it even. He always did like snakes. They were such unpredictable, sneaky predators. He took it as a compliment and nickname, even if the caller probably did not mean it that way.

“Don’t grab the hoe and close my coffin yet.” Laurent said smoothly, coming to a stop a distance from them both.

“Damen...I have news.”

The brunette blinked, sheathing his sword before coming over, taking the parchment that Laurent was holding out lazily to him. Reading it, his eyes grew wide. He took a double take at Laurent, mouth open with surprise.

Nikandros had gone to retrieve his sword, but when he returned, he stopped next to Damen, wondering what was going on.

“News?”

“We are to be parents. Again.” Laurent eyed Nikandros coolly, waiting for him to figure it out.

The man lowered a brow, a bit confused. Parents again? So that means…

“Damianos! What. He allowed you to do this? I have already scolded you before about this.”

Damen laughed heartily.

“It is not my child...not by blood at least.”

Brown eyes went wide, heading whipping to look at Laurent. Perfect, prudish Laurent. The blonde had been so celibate before Damen, and people had been sure he would never touch a person like that, that was not Damianos. So, this was incredible.

“Yours? What in Agathon's name have I missed around here? Gone six months, I find that my nephews have grown so big that they now ride ponies and fight with swords. And Damianos has gotten so good with the sword I can no longer keep a hold on mine. And now this?”

Nikandros looked absolutely done with this whirlwind of a household. These were his kings? Good gods.

“Don’t bury yourself yet. I have not completely lost myself. I never touched her. Damianos and I have talked about it. We decided we would like a child of my blood. I found a way, so I would not have to touch the woman at all to conceive.”

Nikandros gave him a look that pretty much stamped him as crazy.

“Okay, I don’t want the details of that, but the woman. Who is she? I know no Akielon nobility would lower themselves as such, even if you are a king.”

“A Patran Princess of sorts. Karla, of Hamar.” Laurent replied, seemingly rather amused by Nikandros exasperated state at the news.

“Karla...Hamar is that seaside city is it not? Her father rules it alone, and Karla is an only child. She’s never had any interest in having children, or a lover...but her family did need an heir…”

“Good job, you’ve figured it out on your own.” Laurent clapped sarcastically for him.

“So, the child, you will be rearing it, but it is an heir of Hamar?”

A nod.

“Is there nothing you cannot think of and plan for?”

“There have been a few things I just get lucky with.”

An eye roll from Nikandros.

“Well, congratulations. You will have a little snow-white toddler running these halls in no time. I look forward to seeing the child for myself.”

Laurent smiled a bit, nodding. “Karla will be staying with us for her final month of pregnancy. About April. You may be able to plan to be here when he is born in May.”

“He?”

“My family line has only ever shot boys.”

Silence.

“Absolutely filthy, that mouth of yours. I’m surprised the boys haven’t picked up on it yet.”

Damen chuckled.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to yourselves. I’ll see you at dinner.” With that, Nikandros headed back to the palace, most likely to clean up.

Damen looked at Laurent when Nikandros was out of sight.

“This is wonderful news. How are you feeling? I know you’ve been rather on edge about it this past month.”

“I’m...light headed. As if I am a floating head and nothing more.”

Damen pulled Laurent close, the two embracing lovingly.

“I love you...and I am excited. Eight months will be excruciatingly long.” Damen said upon pulling back just the slightest, his hand gently tracing over a pale jawline.

“Indeed, it will be long. I suppose it is best to keep ourselves busy in that time. We have some work to do to prepare for this.”

“I cannot wait.”

The announcement of the child had been tricky. Not knowing how the public would react to yet another child being born to their kings. People now wondered whether their speculations would be right. Perhaps their kings could not choose between Damocles and Isocrates, so they decided to have another child and name them the crown prince. No one knew.

But regardless, the announcement went over surprisingly well. The child was Veretian, so this pleased most of the Veretians, even though it would be a bastard. Akielons were also surprisingly accepting of it. Why? No one really knew. Perhaps because they already had their Akielon heirs, so another child would not be problematic to their kingdom. They had faith that one of the Akielon boys would be picked to be the crown prince.

After the announcement, the months flew by. Letters came in as promised each month, letting them know how things were fairing. Laurent had chuckled about one of Karla’s cravings for cucumber with strawberry spread. He wrote her back saying he had the most peculiar of tastes in his mouth to how he would describe that exact craving at about that time.

All was well, and then the time came that Karla began her slow journey back to Marlas. They had left 2 weeks late, after having to deal with some sort of mishap that could not be ignored. So, when she arrived, it was dangerously close to the estimated due date. One week away.

When Laurent saw her, heavily pregnant with his child, he at once had her sat down in a comfortable chair. She asked him if he wanted to feel when the child was moving about. He did not hesitate to take the offer.

He placed his hand on the large belly, only separated by the thin material of her maternity gown. The child within moved very little, but he felt a kick near his hand, causing him to flinch just the slightest. A smile could not be hidden from his face after that.

The week passed so fast, mornings somehow turning into nights, Laurent wondered if there even were afternoons anymore.

And then it was time. The pain had begun on a Saturday morning and constantly grew until late into the afternoon.

Karla was kept in bed, her doula and nursemaids being the only ones allowed in the room the entire duration. Labor extended into the earliest hours of the morning.

The entire time, Laurent had sat in one of the sitting rooms with Damen, Nikandros, and Torveld. Torveld had not planned at first to attend, but he had ended up coming back with Karla since the stay would surely be shorter now.

Laurent, though he did not show it, was a mess. Only Damen noticed it. The straight way he was forcing himself to hold, his eyes being held as to not look like they were going to pop out of his head. His hands were slightly shaky, even as Damen held them.

All remained in the sitting room talking until word had been brought.

“It is a boy. Madame Karla and the child will be ready shortly to be seen.”

Laurent stood, as did the others, so they could slowly make their way to the rooms that had been given to Karla during her stay here. By the time they arrived, they had allowed in Torveld to the bedchamber at Karla’s request.

The child was to be brought to Laurent in the sitting room in Karla’s rooms. Damen and Laurent sat on a loveseat together, Nikandros sitting in a seat next to Damen. Only a minute passed before the door opened and nursemaid came out with a bundle of silks and fur.

Laurent grew tense again seeing the bundle, his eyes wide as he watched the nursemaid come forth and gently held the baby to him. Slowly, as carefully as he could, he took the soft bundle.

He adjusted the tiny swathe of furs as he looked down at the little scrunched up face. Being as he was not even a half hour old, he was still red, eyes closed, and in some places, still wet.

He was so incredibly tiny, that went Laurent picked up his little hand, the fingers could barely grip around his smallest finger fully. It melted his heart so much seeing his very own child for the first time.

There was a small tuft of wet transparent hair, the only sign that the baby would likely be as blonde as Laurent was.

Damen sat close, looking over a shoulder to see the tiny child all bundled and warm in a fur blanket.

“He’s like a little red bean.” He comments quietly, a smile on his face.

“My little red bean. Look at how tiny he is...Are all newborns so small? He is amazing.”

Damen signaled Nikandros over to view the child, to which he did, and let a warm smile cross his face.

“He’s as red as Laurent in the Ios heat.” the Kyros commented.

Damen and Nikandros chuckled quietly. Laurent smiled, just shaking his head. He could not take his eyes off the infant.

“He will be beautiful and brilliant. I have no doubt in my mind of it.” Nikandros said, looking at the little hand gripping Laurent’s finger. “Just as his father is.”

A long time was spent, the baby being passed gently to Damen, and then to Torveld when he returned from the bedchambers. Karla had requested for Laurent, so he left inside after Torveld came out.

He was not gone long, returning to his seat when done.

“She has allowed me to name him.” He announces, much to the surprise of everyone in the room.

“What will you name him?” Damen had been the one to ask, now being the one to hold the baby again. It was so surreal, seeing the pure white fur, a little pinked face wrapped inside, and Damen holding it so close. So protectively.

“I do not know yet. It is almost pointless to name a child right after it is born. He will not know his name for quite some time. I want something that will suit him well. I will take a day or two to think about it.”

There was an agreed nod amongst them. It was a good point. And a child that had been planned since the beginning should have a fitting name.

Everyone retired shortly after, it being so late and yet so early in the morning. Laurent had the hardest time parting with the child, though he knew he would see him again when he woke, and each day after that. But it was still hard.

The next morning, the boys had come galloping into their room, bouncing around on the bed and shaking their parents to wake up. They heard that the baby had come and had wanted to see him at once.

Damen and Laurent were looking rough when they finally caved and got up, running on a mere 3 hours sleep. Not the least amount they've ever gotten though. The boys were sent to wait in the hall and behave while their parents dressed.

“It’s crazy how excited they are about this. It’s all they have talked about since they were told.” Damen commented, finishing with his husband's overcoat ties, then placing a hand on the cerulean-colored fabric of his shoulder.

“I know. They will be wonderful brothers. He is only just out of the womb and look how excited they are. I wonder how they will be when they finally see him.”

“Only one way to find out.”

They left their apartments with the boys, heading to the room that had been turned into a nursery for the new prince. A knock was placed to warn ahead of time that they were coming in, then they walked in. Both boys were giddy but were kept still by steady hands. The wet nurse, as well as a nursemaid, were there, caring for the newborn.

The boys were sat on one of the couches with Damen, while Laurent retrieved the baby. When he came back, a bundle of dark blue, such as that was used for former Veretian princes, was in his arms. He sat down between Damen and Isocrates, Damocles sitting on Damen’s lap, looking over.

The bundle was lowered, the blanket pushed aside a bit, so the boys could have a better view.

The child was better cleaned now, skin much lighter than the red and pinks it had been hours before. His little tuft of hair was smoothed down and pushed aside, his eyes closed in sleep, little pink lips closed. He was beautiful.

Damis and Iso were so taken back by the tiny human, their eyes were wide, mouths wide open in awe.

It was Damocles that broke their silence, lifting a hand.

“Can I touch him?” He asks gently, looking to Laurent for permission. The blonde nodded.

“Gently.”

He nodded, reaching slowly to caress the tiny baby’s pale cheek. It was so soft, and the baby had turned towards his hand, making him smile a toothy grin.

“He’s soft...like fawn fur.”

Isocrates did the same, gently rubbing the back of his hand over the baby’s cheek.

“He’s white like daddy.” One of them said, causing Damen to snort quietly, a grin growing on his face.

“Very white. He may grow to be even whiter. Who knows.” The boys giggled a bit at their daddy’s suggestion.

The tiny baby made a small sound, his body wiggling around a little as he woke up. His eyes were opening just the slightest, blinking hard before opening again. Laurent watched intently, wondering now if he had indeed obtained his blue eyes. He remembered Auguste telling him of his brilliant blue eyes the first time he opened them. They had been a darker blue at first, but over time, they lightened and gained their brilliance. He was expecting about the same.

But when the child opened his eyes almost completely, staring up at Laurent, he could see that there was indeed a dark blue. One eye was dark blue, the other was dark, grayish hue in color. Damen saw it too and looked at Laurent.

“Daddy, why do his eyes look like that? Can he see?” Damocles asked, still looking at the strangely colored eyes.

“Yes, I believe so.” Laurent responded, trying to keep his panic at bay. He did not know what this was, or why his child's eyes were different in color. How had he not seen it before? He needed Paschal to come and look at it when the boys were not around.

A while longer was spent with the baby before he began to cry, hungry for milk. So, the child was handed over to the wet nurse, and the family left the room.

Damen took the boys to go out to train, and Laurent went to consult with Paschal.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

“Hetero -what?”

“Heterochromia. It is rather rare.”

“Does it affect his sight at all? Will it in the future?”

“No, it will not affect him at all. I have only ever seen one case myself. But I have heard plenty of stories and read enough studies on them. It will not affect any of him. But he will have quite the unique gaze. From the looks of the colors now, it will be light brown or hazel, and a very brilliant blue. Or something akin to those colors.”

Laurent nodded.

“What about the rest of him?”

Paschal had the baby on an examination table, fur and blankets under him so he was not entirely uncomfortable.

He was in just a cloth diaper so Paschal could examine him, checking for any other abnormalities.

“Despite how small he is, he’s as healthy as a horse. But I will come and check on him often to keep an eye on any changes in health. These first months are critical.”

The baby was wrapped up again to be kept warm and handed back to Laurent. A nod and a bow, and Laurent left.

He wandered the halls, his son in his arms, gazing around with his strangely colored eyes. He was almost intelligent in a way, at how he seemed to observe things as they passed. His lingering gaze upon Laurent’s face, figuring out just who he was. This child was his.

“What shall I call you...Faon...No... sounds more of a nickname. Hmm.”

He walked outside after having a servant bring a shade to follow them around. The sun was still bright, but the air was perfect, not hot nor cold. Walking the gardens would be pleasant.

He saw in the distance, his other sons, Damen and Nikandros. They were working with swords again.

Walking further, he eventually reached the orchards. The trees were in full bloom, their blossoms all pink and white, tiny petals fluttering about in the gentle winds. It was beautiful.

He came across one of the caretakers of the palace agriculture, an older man, perhaps in his sixties. He had been one that lived on the border of Delpha, back then Delfeur, and so in a way, he was a bit of both of the neighboring countries. The man was clipping low sprouting branches when he spotted the blonde Veretian king. He bowed upon seeing him, rising to look over the young king, as well as the bundle.

“My King, it is a pleasure to see you here. Is there anything I can help you with?” He asked kindly. Laurent recalled the first time he met the man when the palace was being built. It had been an unfortunate placement, but the man's land had been a part of what was needed to build. The constructions had already begun, and it had been too late to reestablish just a bit to the east to avoid it.

They had ended up uprooting the old Apricot and peach trees the man was so desperately trying to save and had planted them right in the palace orchards. Laurent himself had offered for the man to come work in their orchards. He was very knowledgeable about them after all. And now here they were.

“We are just taking a stroll. It seems it has brought us here.” He responded with equal kindness. He may have been king, but he still had respect for the elder man.  
“This must be the new prince.” The man said, looking at the tiny pinkened face. “He is as beautiful as these blossoms. A little Blanche fleur.” the man's Veretian blending into the Akielon.

Laurent blinked at the comparison.

“Blanchefleur…” He repeated, looking down at the baby. That much had been true. A charming baby he was, with wonderful features that would only grow more wonderful with time.

“If I am not to be rude...may I ask his name. My wife has been wondering about it since the news of his arrival this morning.”

Laurent looked up from the infant and directly into the man’s eyes with a warmth that only a parent would know.

“Blanchefleur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment! Give me love! Suggestions! Critique!


	3. A Shining Star Was Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was beautiful, and could already take entire kingdoms at the age of five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is this chapter?? I dun fucked up again and sped through things. I need to stahp. Or maybe thats the plan... >.> Eherm.  
> Anyways, this one is based alot more on their most recent child, Blanchefleur (Blan-shay-floor), Or Fleur as they call him at the moment.  
> This was the kid that got this whole thing started for me. As i've probably said before, I just wanted some kind of alternate path where Laurent does end up having a kid. So here he is, in all of his beauty and glory. And sass. Lots of sass.  
> I had not intended him to be this way right off the bat, but here we are. Let's see where I can take us on that note.  
> His point of view may be the one i start to frequent more than the others, so be prepared for that.  
> Enjoy!

The castle had been busy for weeks after Blanchefleur’s birth. Crowds of nobility and royalty flocked to the palace to catch just a glimpse of the tiny newborn, shocked that Laurent actually had a child of his own. He had been the last of his direct royal bloodline, and the fact that he had married Damianos, it was not expected that the Veretian would ever give seed to produce a child. The baby, though so young, was so beautiful that most could not even bring themselves to utter the word bastard when referring to him.

The first year was slow, and Laurent enjoyed every second of it with his darling baby, hardly ever being apart from him, aside from feedings and to change his diaper. Laurent had sworn once in front of Damen that he wished he could have borne the child himself. He would have done everything himself, as it was hard being apart from him for even a few minutes.

It was the same for Damos and Iso. Though they spent much of their time outside training, they spent nearly every waking indoor minute cooing over their baby brother, making sure he had only the best of everything. Laurent still remembered the first day they had gotten to hold the tiny baby, letting them cradle the bundle on their laps. When Fleur was better able to hold up his own head, the two older boys got to hold him far more often.

It was a fond memory of when Blanchefleur began to crawl. The tiny blonde was sprawling on his stomach on a soft blanket on the floor of the sitting room Laurent was in. He'd been curled up on a couch, reading aloud quietly to Isocrates, Damocles dozing off on Laurent's lap. It was snowing heavily outside, keeping the two boys indoors and cozy by the fire.

When they saw the baby get onto his hands and knees, they immediately dropped to the floor beside him, trying to show him how to move. Laurent watched them with a proud smile on his face. Damen had come in just in time to see the first little movement Fleur had made, and the man cried happily. The boys continued to encourage Fleur to move some more, which he did. When he got good at it in that following week, no one could set that boy down without losing him for at least solid minute.

When he took his first steps completely on his own, Nikandros had been there. Fleur had been already been on his feet, leaning most, if not all of, his weight on the couch in front of him. Nikandros had crouched down a few feet back and called to the baby. Blonde locks, having already grown so long, swayed like golden wheat stalks in the wind when Fleur turned his head to look at his uncle. A step at most had been expected, but instead, Fleur turned his body fully and toddled fast right into Nikandros' arms, much to his shock. 

Damen had the true delight and confusion of hearing Fleur's first word. He was walking the courtyards of the Marlas palace, the child in his arms. They had built the yards so large and extravagant, flowers, trees, fine grasses. Everything down to intricate stone pathways. And at the center, they had a man-sized statue sculpted of Laurent’s brother, Auguste. It was far more accurate to his looks Laurent had commented once. And it was.

The pair had come upon the statue at some point and Damen was about to introduce the child to it. But before he could even get a word out, Fleur's eyes grew wide and pointed at the statue. “Augoos!” The child said excitedly.

Laurent and Damen had been worried when they heard that Fleur should have been at least babbling words months ago. They were concerned that he might have been mute.

Yet, after hearing the first exclamation of words, Damen pointed at the statue. “Say it again," he said, rather confused and shocked. "Say it one more time Fleur...who is that?” 

“Augoos!” He repeated, looking straight at the statue. 

Damen was completely dumbfounded by the child. Not only had it been his first word, but he had never seen Auguste before. Nor had they ever even mentioned the name around him. Fleur never left his nursery unless it was with one of his parents. So, Damen had rushed back into the palace to tell Laurent about it. The blonde had dropped his goblet of water upon hearing this.

“He said what.”

“Come, perhaps he will say it again.”

They had gone back to the courtyard, and without fail, Fleur said it once more. Laurent cried so hard, holding his son close. Not only had he spoken for the first time ever, but it had been the name of his beloved brother. They never did figure out how or why he knew the name and how to identify him. Damen had suggested that perhaps Auguste was watching over them from the afterlife. Perhaps he had shown himself to Fleur, just to tell them that he would never be alone. Laurent was skeptical, but never denied it as a possibility.

Life after that had gone fast. Next thing they knew, Fleur was four years old. His hair was as golden as the summer sun, his complexion pale. Though his most defining feature had been his eyes. As anticipated, one eye had indeed faded into a lovely hazel, the other a shade of blue that was very similar to Laurent’s.

The four-year-old already had such an intellect that Laurent made sure he had appropriate schooling to match and stimulate. He was about as sharp as Laurent was, and would only continue to grow more fiercely rivaling as his skills were honed in on to their sharpest points.

Laurent could recall easily the time Veretian nobility had gotten a slap to the face by the child barely taller than their knees. They were there on official business and were staying a night over. At dinner was when they truly got to meet Blanchefleur and find that he was not all blonde hair and fascinating eyes.

“My, you have grown into a little beauty, haven’t you? Where has the time gone?” One of the men commented upon seeing the beautiful blonde toddler.

“Perhaps to the bags under your eyes.” The child had responded distastefully, not even looking up from his plate.

Damen had to turn around and spit out his wine when he heard this. Iso and Damos, now 8 years old, covered their mouths to keep from laughing. Laurent continued to eat like nothing had happened, though the corner of his lips had lifted just the slightest.

“Be careful of your words around him. He’s flared cobra at every turn.” Laurent said after a minute of silence at the table.

No one spoke to Fleur again after that, unless it was planned out carefully beforehand. No one liked getting roasted by a four-year-old after all.

Time flew again, and it had come to Fleur’s fifth birthday. The palace was packed with celebration, just as it had been 5 years before for his birth.

Kings and queens, princes and princesses, young and old, nobles, counselor members from everywhere attended. The now five-year-old was dressed to perfection in a cerulean blue coat, laced at the back from top to bottom with golden lacing. The intricate embroidery was also in gold, shimmering in the spring sun. He wore white pants and boots to better contrast the blue. Golden hair was brushed and cut straight into a bob to frame his beautiful face. Anyone that had known Laurent at this age commented on how alike they were. The attention, however, was more focused upon the boy's eyes. No one had ever seen such a thing before.

Fleur was found stuck to his daddy’s side most of the day, listening to their conversations. As badly as he craved to engage, he knew his dad would not approve, and the fact that no one would take him seriously anyway. So Fleur remained quiet, soaking up every detail of the conversation.

Eventually, the time came around to present the prince with gifts. He sat under a large gazebo in the courtyard, some of the gifts placed on the table he sat at. Each gift was opened delicately and observed with a keen eye and a curious smile. No matter what though, he made eye contact with the giver and thanked them. 

Before the gift opening concluded, Damen spoke up, a bright smile on his face. “Hold on. One last one, from your daddy and I.”

Damen had made a gesture to someone behind the crowd. Only a few seconds passed before from around from the back of the gazebo, the king's guard soldier Jord came out leading a beautiful dapple-gray pony. It had a bone white saddle, a white blanket below it with a golden moon crest that was chosen by Fleur to be his insignia. His jaw dropped before he jumped off his chair and went up to the pony. He’d been riding his brother’s ponies since he’d gotten the hang of it and hated it when they got to ride around free and he had to ride with his daddy or papa. Now he had his very own.

“She’s beautiful.” said Fleur, running his hand over her head and mane.

“Get on her. Let us see how you look.” said Laurent.

Fleur did not have to be told twice. He took the stride over the side of the pony, and with a great deal of grace, he swung up onto the saddle and sat. 

“Oh goodness, look at that.” said someone

“He is something else.” said another.

“He is not going to have an easy teenhood. Kingdoms will be chasing after him. No doubt about it.” ”

"Oh, he's just a child. Don't say such things."

Laurent smiled proudly as he watched his son ride in a small circle to get a feel for his new pony. With one smooth kick, the pair took off in a gallop straight out into the gardens, golden hair trailing and shimmering sun.

# ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

The next day, they all decided to go on a ride together.

Damen was saddled up on his tan stallion. Laurent on his wedding gift horse, a white mare with an affinity for jumping, which Laurent really prized in her. Their sons Damocles and Isocrates had palomino ponies, almost matching, except for the black socks on Damocles’. And then Fleur on his new Dapple grey.

Damen and Laurent smiled warmly at each other when their youngest trotted out on his new pony like he was already king.

“I’ll race you Fleur!” Iso started, baiting Damos by giving him a look.

“Me too! I’ll beat you to that tree!” said Damos, staring Iso back.

Fleur rolled his eyes a bit. “If you two wanted to race each other, you didn’t have to bring me into it.” The boy sighed, but with a swift kick and a smile, he and his pony raced off for the tree before the other two had any real time to react. They all took off, heading for an enormous tree in the distance, racing as fast as their ponies could go.

“He is definitely a Veretian. That was dirty.” Damen chuckled. 

Laurent smiled. “He never said he wouldn’t race.”

“Well, he is definitely a splitting image of you then.” The earned Damen a kick in the leg from Laurent.

“I’ll race you.”

“You’ll lose.”

“Then I’ll lose valiantly to the most beautiful man in the world.”

“You really are an oaf. Very well.” A kick and he was gone, Damen grinning as he following suit.

It was a close finish, but Laurent won by a head length.

“I never realized how fast that mare was. For a Friesian, she really moves.”

“So, you bought me a horse not knowing if she would be quick?”

Damen looked to the sky innocently. “Oh, look a bird. Come on kids, let’s follow it.” Damen said jokingly. Another kick from Laurent had him grinning.

“I will cry the day you finally decide to go through with spikes on your boots.”

“I’m truly considering it now.”

The kids were now giggling at their parent’s antics.

“Come on! I thought were going for a ride, not dilly dally under an ancient tree. I’m not getting any younger here.” said Fleur, looking comically bored. He was hiding the smile that was threatening to break through the facade.

“Lead the way, my young prince.” Damen says, turning his horse to face the child, eyes wide with a warm grin.

Fleur turned his pony, threw his head back as he reared up his pony and pointed his finger in front of him. “Onwards!” He was off at a gallop not bothering to give anyone any time to keep up. Laurent was a white blur as he took off after, keeping just behind his son. The rest of them caught up after a second.

By the time they came back, the kids were so tired that they were barely able to keep their eyes open. Fleur was picked up off his pony by his papa, as he had already been practically asleep in his saddle. Damos and Iso kept close at their daddy’s sides, his hands grip keeping them from outright collapsing. All trekked back inside to get washed up and have a brief dinner. No one had the energy for anything extravagant.

Later that night, long after the boys had been put to bed, Damen and Laurent were lounging on a large chaise couch. Laurent had a book in hand, eyes scanning the pages slowly as he read, and his husband just lay there contently, head resting in the crook of his neck. It was peaceful with the balcony doors open, a gentle spring breeze blowing through the room.

Damen kissed his lovers neck and sighed.“They’ve really grown up to be fine boys…” He says quietly into Laurent’s bare shoulder, kissing at the skin there after.

Laurent blinked, glancing to the side where he could only see his husbands shoulder.

“At nine? Yes, so far, they are very good. They’re protective of Fleur and teach him what he needs to know.”

“And Fleur? He’s growing like a weed with that mind of his...were you like this?”

Laurent had to think a bit on that one.

“Not entirely...I was far more shy, to where he is comfortable around crowds. And I didn’t exactly have so much spunk to my words like he does. That’s...more of a recent thing I came across growing up. Nor did I smile so much around others. Only with Auguste. ”

“He is still good.”

A small stretch of silence.

“Yes...he is. But I think it’s time I teach him how to filter. He can’t go around forever talking like he can get away with anything.”

“He probably could…”

“I have no doubt he could, but he shouldn’t. He is already picking up so much from me because it comes naturally to him. I’ve got to bring an end to it, while he’s still so sweet.”

It was true, Fleur was very sweet and loving. He was anything but cold. But his growing intelligence had him using his tongue more, slicing up anything in his path with just a few words. He was eager to learn and got bored hearing the same things over and over. He was snappy if it happened often, which was usually when his poisonous tongue came into play.

Laurent had found it a bit amusing at first but realized sometime after that it was not behavior he wanted his son to grow up having. He wanted to him remain as sweet as he was, for as long as he could.

“I understand. I’m here if you need help with any of it.”

“Thank you...I love you.”

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

“Recite it.”

“I may be a prince, but that doesn’t mean I can say anything I want. Because I am a Prince, I need to act like one.”

“Very good.” Laurent pulled the Fleur to himself, hugging him as he crouched before him.

“You know I love you very much, right.”

A nod.

“Don’t find this as restricting yourself. Because it’s not. You are a very sweet boy, naturally. You have been since the beginning. I see though that the worst in me is rubbing off on you. But we’re going to work on it together.”

“But isn’t your words what make you strong?”

This had Laurent blinking, cocking his head to the side.

“Where did you get that from?” Fleur almost immediately regretted saying it at all.

“Somewhere…”

“Like?”

“...The maids, the nobles...everyone.”

Laurent frowned.

“It may be a part of my strong point, but it is not what makes me strong in a whole.”

“Then what does?”

The older blonde narrows his eyes. Something was fishy about this.

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, giving the boy a slightly concerned look.

“Because...I want to be strong too...I’m smaller...I’m not as good with swords as Iso and Damis...I can’t fight. I can’t do anything they can. I thought if I did what you did, then I could keep up.”

Laurent had never considered this. It was true, Fleur was behind in most things that were physical, just as he had been. And it made sense for him to want to be strong too when his papa was one of the strongest men in the lands. His brothers were growing stronger by the day, already proving a challenge in their own fields. They were larger, stronger, rough and rugged. Everything Fleur was not.

The small blonde boy was everything Laurent remembered being. His nose was buried in books as soon as he was able to read, his days spent lounging around inside, his mind anywhere but here. His intelligence may have been a force of its own, but it just wasn’t the same. Laurent knew how that felt. Though, it was still different. He hadn’t felt the need to keep up like this. He’d been content right where he was, reading and keeping preoccupied with mindful things while his brother was off being the shining strong prince.

Laurent pulled the boy into another embrace.

“Well then, we’ll just have to work on that too, won’t we? It’ll be good to start now. From experience, I know it’s harder starting later on. But to do this, your key weapon will be determination. You cannot give up. It’ll get very tough, but if you fall down, you have to get back up. Are you sure you’re up for that?”

The five-year-old seemed to seriously contemplate this, rolling it around in his mind for a moment. Then he nodded.

“If you did it, then so will i. I want to be good with swords like you, and papa, and Damis, and Iso. And everyone. With the grace of a prince.”

Laurent smiled, any bit of concern he had was slipping away. The boy had it in him like he did.

“Very well. Go have the servants change you into your leathers. We begin now.”

The tiny blonde didn’t waste a second before running off to his room to change.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The outing hadn’t been what Fleur expected. He was expecting to be in the courtyards, swords ready in wait. But it was nothing of the sort. Instead, he saw a target at a distance that was not normally there, and a man standing next to his daddy, talking to him.

The man was using some sort of strange looking bent stick like a walking stick, though it was much too big to be used as such. But as he got closer, he saw that it had a string on it. What a strange thing that was. Why in the world would a stick have a string on it, and bent with tension? If this was an instrument, he was seriously going to call out his daddy that this was not what he meant.

When he came close enough, Laurent stopped talking and looked at him. The man turned, his already bright face coming further to life upon seeing the young prince.

“Sir Isaakios, this is my son, the Prince, Blanchefleur.”

The man walked over, kneeling down before the prince, bowing his head, long wavy hair falling over his shoulder.

“It is a great honor to meet you, young prince, Blanchefleur.”

“You may call me Fleur if you prefer. It’s quicker.” The boy says, his eyes large and curious. Just who was this man?

“Very well, Prince Fleur. You seem a bit confused. I will guess you don’t know what we’ll be doing. So I will explain. This here is a bow. They are not used much inside of the palace walls, which may explain your confusion.” The man brought the bow into both hands, showing the prince. It was wooden, intricately carved and beautiful.

The prince gently felt over the smooth wood, getting a feel for it.

“What does it do?”

“Well, it shoots arrows. Would you like to see?”

After a nod, the man stood, walking over to where a strip of cloth lay to barrier a standpoint. He stopped when his foot was on the cloth, then reached to the side to pull out another piece of wood from a bag atop a small table. This one was smaller, with some strange feathering at the butt of it, and a sharp end at the other.

Fleur moved a little closer, off to the side to get a good view of what was going to happen. Isaakios placed the butt of the small piece of wood, which he supposed was the arrow, against the thick string, then with one smooth motion, he pulled back, the wood bending under the pressure off the pulled string, but not breaking. Then he let go.

The arrow glided faster than the wind through the air and hit the target dead center.

“What do you think?” Isaakios asked, looking over at the boy who was staring in awe still at the arrow stuck in the target.

“Teach me.” He says after a minute, the man chuckling happily.

Another wooden bow was picked up, smaller and fit for tiny hands. Perfect for Fleurs delicate fingers and palms. After getting a safety walkthrough, they began the real training.

He could barely pull back the string the first time, and when he did get it, it slipped from his fingers and snapped back. The boy had been startled by the vibration through the wood and dropped the bow.

“Well, not the worst pullback I've seen. Let’s try again.”

The bow was picked up, and the string was struggled to be pulled back again. This time, however, it wasn’t let go of. There was no arrow in it, Fleur just getting used to holding the weapon still and straight. He was gently adjusted and instructed by Isaakios, who was impressed by how quickly the boy was catching on.

And within an hour and a half, Isaakios was helping him to put his first arrow in.

“Focus. Keep your arm bent, or it will snap you. When you’re ready, shoot.”

Fleur took a breath, then he pulled back, keeping the arrow in place as best he could. He aimed carefully for the target, keeping it as steady as possible before releasing. The piece flew through the air fast, hitting right next to the bullseye.

Laurent clapped from where he was standing, a proud smile on his lips. Isaakios was ecstatic.

“My gods, I have never seen a beginner hit the target on their first try. Nonetheless so close to the center. I am very proud to see this. My prince, you are a natural. You will be a master in no time.”

Fleur felt for the first time, entirely proud of himself. He’d done it. He used a bow for the first time and got the target.

“Can I do another?” He asks, his eyes wide with joy and excitement. Something Laurent had not seen in those beautiful eyes in quite some time.

“Of course, shoot all you’d like. Let us watch a natural perform and excel all in one.” Isaakios said, handing him another. The load time was quicker, and so was the shot. It hit in the inner circle this time.

He did not stop until the quiver was empty, then he went to retrieve the arrows to do some more. Even after Isaakios left and Laurent went back inside, Fleur continued on with his practice, wanting to become better, no matter how long it took.

The next day, and the weeks that followed, Fleur could be found outside, standing at the newly set up range, practicing with his bow. He experimented with new things here and there, ending up with broken arrows every so often. And when all of his arrows had broken, he requested more, then would go again.

Iso and Damis sat there one day and watched him shoot, amazed by his accuracy. Naturally, they wanted to try it but were absolutely terrible shots. And then somehow, the bow got broken, the wood snapped in half. Fleur was furious but did not let it show. Instead, he looked at the broken bow, sighed and headed back to the palace. By the look in his eyes, he was upset. Iso and Damis felt very bad about breaking the bow.

They told their papa about it, to which Damen suggested that they commission a bow, just for Fleur. So they did. When the piece was finished three days later, they went looking for their little brother, who had made himself scarce after the incident.

He was found in the library, hidden away behind a pile of books. He still looked very upset, with the way his eyes drooped when looking at the pages, the lazy way he’d turn to see the next page. It didn’t even seem like he was reading at all.

Damis went over to the boy, crouched down and made to scoop him up. Being rather large for a 9-year-old, and quite strong, it wasn’t hard to lift the little blonde. He carried the squirming body out to a table, continuing to hold him despite the struggle.

“We have something to show you, stop… struggling….god you’re like an unearthed worm!”

“As pink as one too.” Iso joked with a grin.

Fleur stopped struggling, looking over at Iso with a snarl on his face, his usually perfectly braided hair all messed up with misplaced hairs and flyaways.

“A shame looks can’t kill. That one might have actually hurt. Anyways. We felt really bad about breaking your bow the other day.”

“Yeah, we’re really sorry, Flower. We know you’ve been working on it so hard, and now you can’t because we broke the only one you had.”

“So...we got this made for you.” The sheet was opened, revealing a wonderful new bow. It was made of a light colored wood and curved to perfectly support his hand. And next to it was a set of arrows. They were also the same kind of wood, the tips were dark, likely made of obsidian.

Fleur’s mouth dropped, his struggling coming to a complete stop. Iso and Damis were unsure if this was a good reaction or not, and were waiting anxiously for him to say something. Anything.

Next thing Damis knew, arms were around his neck in an embrace. He gently leaned down to let the blonde on his feet, then wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Then Fleur moved to Iso and gave him a tight hug as well. The three joined in an embrace.

“I love it so much...thank you. You guys might be rowdy animals sometimes, but you're also so good.”

The two grinned happily, glad that their baby brother liked it so much.

“Anything for you. Who else will keep us in check and make us feel bad about things.”

“Yeah...like breaking things.”

“You two are a bunch of buffoons…” The littlest prince turned, picking up the bow to give it a try.

“We strung it for you, just in case.”

“Good, you would have had to anyways.”

They all laughed.

“Well? You gonna go try it out?” Damis asked, wide-eyed and excited.

“Yes. Let’s go. Grab those arrows.”

Like a herd of cattle, they barrelled through the palace halls, heading for the courtyard. Nikandros and Pallas we nearly roadkill by the five and eight year olds. Looking at each other, they decided to follow and see what they were up to.

“I think one of them had a bow.” Pallas said with raised brows.

“Well, that sounds interesting.” Nikandros didn’t look entirely interested, but they both found themselves coming back down the steps to see what all the commotion was about. By the time they arrived, Fleur had set himself up next to the stand that held his arrows, his foot on the cloth on the ground.

The small blonde reached and took one of the newly crafted arrows, placing it expertly on the string, pulled back, and with hardly a thought, released. The arrow cut through the air, and much to the surprise of Nikandros and Pallas, had hit dead center.

“Oh my...that's one deadly aim, and he’s not even up to my hip yet.” Pallas commented, an amused look upon his face.

“Yeah...I’ll say. That kid will be a great archer someday. No doubt about it.”

“I wonder how he would be mounted.”

Nikandros eyes grew wide.

“Don’t give him any ideas yet...I don’t feel like getting shown up by a child on the hunt just yet...No one would have a chance.” He was partially joking. But a part of him believed it. The kid was still on a pony, but the minute he was able to ride a full-sized stallion, he was going to a whole other force on his own.

Another arrow whistled through the air, hitting directly next to the one before. The other older brothers were cheering happily. Damis came over, pulling Fleur to his side and messed up his hair more than he had earlier with a fisted hand.

“You might just have a chance at our side someday on the battlefield!” Iso said with a laugh as the younger tried to escape the hair ruffling.

“I already do! You may have your swords, but I’ll shoot out the enemy’s knees before you get anywhere near!”

The two elder boys laughed, hugging their pale little brother.

Pallas smiled, feeling happy for Fleur. Nikandros felt the same. Laurent had told him just days before how the boy felt about himself. Weak. But he wasn’t. A far cry from it. He was everything in his blood father but had a shining streak of stubbornness that both Laurent and Damen had. He was strong, standing so tall among those larger and physically stronger. Neither Pallas nor Nikandros had any doubt in the kid's strength of mind, nor the potential he held in such young hands.

“The day he is ready to show those colors to the world, I want to be there to see it.” Pallas said before walking off to continue on with his business. The other man stayed for a moment, watching the prince a bit longer, seeing each arrow hit its target. He left with a smile on his face and an air of confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It me. I am sap.  
> Give love. Or critique <3


	4. And On And On We'll Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new crowd comes to town, and Fleur learns the hard way that maybe he needs to it step down a notch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's felt like a million years since I last posted?? for some??? reason?????  
> Anyways so...this doesn't have much of Iso and Damis in it, which I disappoint myself with. So that's a goal for next chapter. For now, enjoy reading about Fleur being an ass because, aha, boi, excuse, I am too yoooung fo this buuuuulshit. Try me betch
> 
> Alright, so let's get on with yeah?

Four years passed when a king of a distant land came to visit for new trade negotiations. An ambassador could have been sent, but upon hearing and seeing paintings of the family, he insisted upon coming himself.

The people of Perasia were wearing brightly colored, loose clothing, unfamiliar to anything seen in the four neighboring countries. Their armors were made of bronze and gold, and they carried strangely curved swords at their sides, but most carried uprighted spears. Their steeds had heavily embroidered cloths upon them, detailed leather and cloth saddles over top. And not to mention the number of tassels and jewelry.

The Peratian king was a tall man, not quite as wide as Damianos, but somewhere in that range of body type. He had a curly, but well-kept beard that came down from his temples He had many scars, but one notable one was the one that extended from his hairline down to his jaw, only just missing his right eye. The king dressed in fine blue and red silks and a heavy blood red brocade vest that had sharp curved shoulder points at their ends.

Damianos came, joining in a strong grip and close quarters with the man. They spoke for a second before they parted.

“So I’ve heard much about this unified countries of Akielos and Vere. And I've seen traveling through the countrysides, all is well and peaceful between the peoples. I am glad to see you thriving.” The man claimed, a smile on his face, his voice deep, but the heavy accent smoothing it out.

“It is flourishing. Rough in the beginning, but it has found its way in the past 13 years.”

“Speaking of 13 years, you have two boys now? Of the same age.”

“Yes.” Damen signals for a guard to bring out the boys. A second later, two boys, standing tall were close to reaching their father's shoulders, came out. Their bright, handsome faces and strong spritely bodies proudly on display with their scarce chitons had the visiting king, Artebānu, smiling brighter.

“They are just as I’ve heard. Large, strong colts they are of yours. I’m glad to see it. How fare you boys with swords?”

“Better than most of the guards, sir,” Damis said with a confident smirk, his voice already deepening just the slightest. A hearty laugh escaped the king's throat.

“Very good. Very very good. I will have to try my hand with the both of you during my stay.”

Both boys were ecstatic to hear this.

“I have two sons of my own, just about your ages.” A hand gesture had two boys coming up.

“Orophernes is 15, and a dead shot with the spear and trident. And Āturpāt is 14. Also one of the best archers and sword users I’ve come to see in my time. They will surely keep you boys occupied.”

Orophernes was a beautiful teen, his eyes a brilliant sky blue, dark brown hair like that of his fathers, skin fair with strong facial features. He looked exactly the part sought after in a Peratian Prince. Āturpāt, next to his brother, was not quite so much a comparison. He had darker skin, closer in color to Isocrates and Damocles, his hair, though barely seen through the white cloth over his head, was also dark, nearly black in color. And his eyes... one would not look twice at, just at a glance, they took on a normal light brown color. But if a gaze was held long enough, they looked golden with emerald embellished specks.

The princes exchanged in strongly shaken hands and nods of the head. And then they moved on.

“I also have two daughters.” Another hand gesture and two girls came up, their clothes revealed little to nothing except their bared forearms and the upper halves of their faces. The rest of them were draped in fine materials. They were beautiful with their skin that matched their fathers, hazel and green eyes respectively.

“Youtab and Adrina.” The girls made for a small curtsey before moving back behind their father.

“You also have another child yes? I have seen them in paintings. I have heard it was a boy, but the paintings seem to deceive the eyes.”  
Damen smiled a bit at this.

“Yes, he is a boy. He doesn’t particularly care for gendered things, however.” As if timed, Laurent and Blanchefleur came out from the doors, looking casually late to the greeting.

Damen gave the king an apologetic look. Before he could introduce, Laurent opened his mouth.

“Greetings, King of Perasia, Artebānu. I hope your trip was well. We apologize for being late. My son was being finicky.” Laurents' hands came to rest on the now just over waist tall ten-year-old.

Laurent, in the past years, had been growing out his hair, and now that he was in his early thirties, was in his prime of beauty. Long golden hair was up in a high ponytail, braids on either side of his head joined at the pony as well. His skin was as ivory as the limestone brought to line the walls of the courtyard. Heartstopping.

And then there was the splitting image, only in a smaller form of him, just at an arm's length down. Blanchefleur lived greatly to his name. His skin was white like an apricot blossom, hair was as long and golden as straw. His youthful face was rounded, eyes narrow with long lashes. Just as beautiful as his father.

Damen nodded, looking to the king again.

“This is Laurent, my husband and equal in ruling Akielos-Vere. And our youngest son, Blanchefleur.”

Eyes were captured by the gold duo, in all of their blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, restrictive clothing and high collars. Very different from the Akielon side of the family.  
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Laurent. And Blanchefleur. What a lovely growing boy you are.” Especially those eyes. It was never said, but it was there. They all knew it was.

A common thing among the Perasians was their love for the unusual. The unique and strange characteristics of a lover were sought after greatly. Especially among kings and princes.

Damen and Laurent had known this. They had been sure to school Fleur about it beforehand, so as he would not somehow get swept away. The boy had, of course, reassured them that he had no interest in any of that sort of thing. He was far too busy and too young to be even thinking about it.

His mind had obviously not been changed as he stared the king, his two sons, and two daughters down like a cobra would before striking.

“Thank you, sir. I greatly admire the coloring of your silks. It is pleasurable to the eye. May I inquire how comfortable it is?”

The king was so taken back by the child's use of words, his eyes grew wide, which in turn made Laurent smile just the slightest.

“It is very comfortable. The finest silks of Perasia. Perhaps we can settle an arrangement to have some sent to you, my young prince.” He says, a great smile on his face. Fleur nodded, a charming little smile gracing his smooth face.

Damen, smiling all the while at his youngest's rather intelligent gesture of conversation, decided it was time for them to go inside. He directed all into the palace, talking about the structure itself as small talk till they could get to the meeting room. The four children of the foreign king were shown their prepared rooms, then were given free reign.  
Damocles and Isocrates took this opportunity to talk more freely with the unfamiliar princes. Their accents were very interesting, but their Akielon was not the best. They were able to communicate well enough though, through hand gestures when things could not be in other ways explained.

The two girls stuck together, speaking to each other quietly for a while before going to find Fleur. The boy was standing out on the balcony of the library, staring out over the peaceful courtyards connected to it. He was startled just the slightest when a hand was gently placed on his shoulder. He had not heard the two girls slipping up behind him, which had surprised him. He usually heard just about everything. Especially those strange noises in the halls late at night.

“Yes?” He asked upon turning around to look at the two princesses, his eyes large and a bit confused looking.

“We heard much about you back in Perasia. You like to read, and are a fine archer. You also can ride very well. At least, that is as much as we have heard.” The girl in the bright orange garbs spoke, the lower half of her face mostly covered by a slightly transparent kind of cloth, so it did not look like she spoke at all.

The other girl in purple nodded. “Aside from the fact that you are very beautiful, and have long, soft hair.”

Fleur blinked, cocking his head a bit with amusement.

“Things about me have spread that far?” He questioned. Two nods.

“Interesting. Well, for the most part, I guess they’re right. I do like to read. A lot. I’ve read a good portion out of this library...I do practice archery, every day. And I ride horses quite often too. I’m told I’m very good in the saddle.” He shrugs. “As for the hair, well, I guess that's just an opinion? You can feel it if you like.”

He pulled his long golden hair over his shoulder, careful not to disturb the braid of his bangs and the flowers in it. His daddy said often how much he liked braiding flowers into his hair, and how wonderful it looked on him. And since Laurent liked it, he loved it.

The girls looked at each other before gently reaching and touching the long locks. It was as soft as fox furs, smooth to the touch. They got comfortable enough to comb through it with their fingers.

“Can we braid it?” The purple girl asked.

“I don’t see why not. Mind the bangs though. My...father did that, and I don't want it ruined.” He didn’t want to sound childish with his usual parental name for Laurent. Damis and Iso didn’t call him daddy anymore. He felt now that he was around guests, maybe he shouldn’t either.

Moving to the benches on the balcony, they sat and the girls began to braid. They both pulled out strings of jewels and gold to weave into the braids. When done, Fleur felt the unique braiding style the girls had used.

“What sort of braid is this? I’ve never seen anything of the sort…” He said as he looked at himself in the glass of the windows. The braids gradually cascaded down a background of his slightly dark underlayer of hair.

“We call it a cascade braid.” The orange girl said, sounding rather proud of their handy work.

“It’s lovely. Thank you.” He turns to face them, smiling happily, genuinely.

“Anytime, young prince.”

Fleur ended up spending the rest of the day with the girls, talking about books they've read and genres they preferred and why. He found their presence rather easy to be around, unlike any other princes and males he’d been forced to converse with in the past.

By dinner time, they’d become rather well acquainted with each other. And Fleur had been rather disappointed that he could not sit next to them for the feast, but rather, he was seated next to the pretty boy...what was his name again? Oro-something he remembered the sisters saying. He hadn’t cared enough to completely remember his name. But at least he had the gist of it.

The teen kept glancing over, a small smirk on his lips all throughout the courses of the lavish dinner that had been prepared. And when the final course had been finished and plates were cleared away, the older male finally decided to speak.

“So, Fleur--” He began, only to be cut off by the blonde he was attempting to speak to.

“Blanchefleur.” His tone was serious, straightforward, taking no prisoners. He was obviously not going to be acting like they were friends. He simply wasn’t that sort of person, sweet side reserved for loved ones only.

“Blanchefleur.” The other corrected himself, sounding a bit taken back by the kid's tone. He had such a sweet face, who could have ever expected such venom to drip from his tongue.

“Yes.” He hadn’t even bothered to look over, staring straight ahead as a servant cleaned his hands with a damp cloth of any possible food that had gotten on him.  
“I have heard many great things about you, despite your young age. You must be brilliant.” He had turned in his chair a bit to look at the boy, trying so desperately to start a conversation in Veretian, in which the younger wanted no part in.

“Such as?”

“Well, your archery for one. My brother is the best of us. It makes for a good duo in a fight.”

“Have you ever been in a fight?” The child asked, glancing over with a raised brow.

“Well, not a real fight...but we have given our guards a run for their money.”

Whatever minuscule interest the boy held in the other was gone. His gaze turned away.

“They let you win. They would never hurt their princes.” He stated.

The conversation ended when the boy excused himself and headed for his rooms. He did not desire to be in conversation much more.

The next day was spent in a luxurious gathering for exotic teas and treats. None of which had tickled Fleurs fancy at all. He was not happy about being treatless, even when a servant brought him out some of the Veretian and Akielon treats he was used to.

“Even the tea is...ugh..” he groans, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. He sat alone, all the adults and other visiting guests were off standing in groups, talking about god knows what. Fleur felt no desire for anything but to retire and be by himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone else had the same idea as they looked back suspiciously before slipping out the doors to the courtyards. This peaked the young prince's interest, leading him to slip out of his chair and sneaking out the door as well. He looked around before spotting the figure off a ways, following behind quietly.

It wasn’t far when the figure before him came to a stop to a bench that was next to a large bush. Large enough to block it from most views of the first floor of the palace. Fleur came up closer, trying to catch a glimpse of who it was.

When he snuck up close enough, he saw that the bench was empty. Where did they go?

“Are you following me.” Came a voice, rather deep, but still youthful, from behind Fleur.

The pale boy jumped, whipping around to the figure behind him. The hood they had on was down, revealing dark, slightly messy hair. The sun darkened skin was exposed for the first time since meeting, light brown eyes narrowed, but glimmering in the sun.

It was Āturpāt.

“What? No…”

“You are a terrible liar.”

< Wide eyes now narrowed at the accusation.

“Not normally. You caught me off guard.”

“A good liar is never caught off guard.”

Fleur huffs. “Nevermind that, why are you being creepy and sneaking around.”

“I did not know I could not go for a walk.” retorted Aturpat

“You call that a walk? You slipped out of the door like a shadow.”

“Or perhaps I just walked out.”

Fleur scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Now who’s lying.”

< “I never lie.”

“Really.”

A nod.

Fleur raised a brow, his cheeks puffed a bit.“So you’re just out for a walk...hmm. Why. Can’t handle the diplomats being snobs? It is rather unbearable. Unless you know how to make them squirm.”

“I suppose that is what you do?”

“Only if one is stupid enough to cross me.”

“You are rather crude. I would have never expected it. Then again, you did turn down my brother rather brilliantly last night. It was wondrous.”

Fleur cocked his head a bit. He supposed the other had heard them. A grin spread across pink lips.

“Sure did. I don’t care for big sword talks. It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then what does? Pushing people in the mud?”

“Perhaps. What’s it to you, Sir Walking-Shadow.”

“Just a simple inquiry.”

The blonde took a look at the teen. He wasn’t spectacular to look at. Certainly nothing like his brother, who seemed to be spreading his charms over any and everyone that had even the slightest appeal to him. Āturpāt just looked like any other 14 years old. He had some muscle on him, lean due to his youth, but would be growing greatly in no time. He had the muscles of an archer and a swordsman. Fleur could tell he would be very good someday.

< “I heard you’re an archer. As you might’ve heard your wonderful brother tell me last night. How good are you?”

“I could probably shoot that bird with my eyes closed.” He says, pointing off to a bird sitting on one of the walls, his head never turns, eyes never leaving Fleurs.

“Hmm, very interesting. You know your Veretian is impeccably good. Better than your brothers. He was really trying.”

“He does not try. And you are changing the subject. How good are you?”

“Good enough.”

Their conversation was fast-paced, and Fleur somehow found a thrill in it. It was nice having someone that could keep up with him that wasn’t his father.

“Perhaps I’ll see what good enough means in this country.”

“Perhaps you will.”

It was a challenge, and Fleur was already putting his fists in his mind. He was ready to show what he was made of. And ready to see if this 14-year-old was anything like he was saying he was.

They got their chance the next day. A small games was held in the palace courtyards. A show of strength was important to the Perasians so it was held in their honor. All had gone well. Damis and Iso had the guests on the edges of the seats, displaying such great sword and wrestling skills, even at their young age. The foreign king complimented Damen again on his superb lineage.

Finally, something new had come upon them. A game the Perasians introduced to them.

It was mounted, with bows. The idea was similar to that of the okton, only there would only be two riders. The riders would do a circle 8 between two spaced out targets.

Arrows could only be shot to the target furthest from them. It was very dangerous, and it was rare anyone ever left without at least a slice in the skin from an arrow.

“Father, I want to compete,” Fleur said to Laurent, giving him a very serious look. Laurent gave him raised brows and a confused look.

“What in the world, no. No no.”

“Please... I want to compete against Āturpāt. Please let me. I don’t ride ponies anymore. I’ll be fine.”

Laurent gave him a stern look.

“Absolutely not.”

Fleur sighed and looked back at the two current riders. He had to do this.

He gave the 13-year old across the way a look, the other somehow understanding. When he was able, Fleur snuck off. He returned just before volunteers could step into the ring for the next round, mounted on a borrowed stallion from the stables. Āturpāt was already mounted and was competing with the permission of his father.

The two eyed each other and began before they could be stopped. Laurent, Fleur though, was probably absolutely mortified. He was so going to get in trouble for this. But it would be worth it.

The first arrow shot was Āturpāt’s, hitting center with his blue painted arrow. Fleur took his shot right after, hitting just off of the center. He cursed to himself and continued to ride.

He’d never done this before, riding and shooting. But he had ridden without hands before. And without a saddle at the same time. He felt confident.

Fleur took the next shot immediately, throwing Āturpāt off by how close the arrow was to him. This time, it hit in the center. A proud smirk was given was he road the loop as quickly as he could.

The teen shot just in front of Fleur, the crowd gasping. Not a single miss yet.

Finally, one arrow left each. Fleur was determined to hit before the other. He drove his horse faster down the straight to the loop.

Both bows lifted, strings pulled.

The last whistles of arrows flying.

Fleur felt a prickle on his cheek, like the base of a feather grazing over his skin.

Both shots hit at the same time, centered.

The small crowd cheered on for the two princes, though it was almost immediately stricken out. And Fleur had almost been too late to notice why. He yanked the reins, the horse skidding to a stop just before a blonde man standing hardly a foot from the animals head now.

Arms were crossed, blue eyes deadly, lips pursed.

King Laurent was not happy.

The man had gone, around pulling down the ten-year-old from the saddle and set him on the ground.

“Room. Now.” He said, voice unnervingly calm. Far too calm. It rattled most that heard it, even Fleur. The boy nodded and began walking for the palace.  
He was in huge trouble.

Laurent walked into Fleur’s bedroom just ten minutes later, closing the doors behind him. He sighed slowly, deeply as he stared across the room at Fleur, who had taken to sitting at his table to wait.

The boy ducked down a bit seeing that look.

“Come here.” It came in a calm tone, as it had earlier. Stern, but not as loaded. The boy slid off the chair and came to the older.

< Laurent kneeled down, pulling something from his side. A cloth gently wiped over the little cut on the boy's cheek, cleaning the spilled blood. The child winced, trying to back away from the gentle touches, but was held firmly. When done, the cloth was discarded off to the floor.

“Why. I told you no. And yet, you disobey me. Why was it so important that you competed against that boy? To prove something? What have you to prove? You are but ten years old. You have your whole life ahead of you. And you risk it for 30 minutes in a ring with a foreign prince who could have killed you at any moment. Any mistaken movement, and you my dearest son, you would be gone. And what I have left...but a dead son and a broken heart.”

Laurent’s hands held the boys pinkened face gently, lovingly, worriedly.

“Why must you try and grow like this...Do you desire to leave so soon from my arms? Be it death or age? Do I not give you all you need, my dearest? Why?”

Blanchefleur, for the first time in his life, felt terrible. He rarely ever truly regretted a decision. This by far was the worst. He lowered his eyes, felt his eyes tingle as tears welled up. The boy could not stop the small sob from slipping his lips.

Laurent watched him with sad eyes for a moment before pulling him close.

“My love, you have scared me greatly today...I feared every second...any second could be the last. And I could do nothing to protect you. Please...please never do this again.”

The boy sobbed more into his father’s shoulder, little body shaking. He felt so ashamed of himself. He had hurt his father, and he should have known better than to do something so stupid.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry...Da-addy.” He managed to sob out, hiccuping in between. Laurent held him tighter.

“I forgive you, my son. I can never stay mad at you, dearest. Just stay with me longer. Try not to grow so fast from me. I am not ready to let you go so soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up a new country. Or tried to. Derp. This is why it took so long. I had to make sure I was getting it at least kind of right?? They're a mix of many things, so I probably did a crap ass job. If you guys have any suggestions for this new country, let me know. This will not be the last of the Perasians!  
> I like strange Aturpat. That boooii


	5. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing off a family, with promises of a rematch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have heard my people speak!  
> lol  
> So, super short. I probably could have fit this in at the end of chapter 5, but I was too lazy to write it in.  
> I am working on chapter 7 probably as you read this. It will be up asap, because I am EXCITE TO GET A MOVE ON. AAAHHH I HAVE SO MUCH PLANNED.  
> aLRIGHT, ENJOY BEFORE I BURST

Fleur had kept to his rooms the rest of that day, not feeling well enough to rejoin the crowds just yet. He did, however, come for dinner, seating himself beside his brothers.

And by some strange happening, Āturpāt had been seated on his other side. The others brother had seated himself elsewhere, probably with some other pretty faces that wouldn’t scald his ears for saying something dumb. The blonde glanced at the foreign prince at his side, showing more interest than he normally did about anyone. Typically, he hardly spared anyone else a glance in the courts, only offering polite smiles before going about his business of keeping out of meaningless conversations. But he found himself now, instigating conversation.

  
“That was...a nice play earlier.” He spoke, biting his cheek a bit, feeling rather nervous for some reason.

  
“It was. I was pleasantly surprised. You must’ve had plenty of practice.” The other answers, glancing at him as well. Neither would face each other directly, sticking with glances every so often.

  
“With the bow, yes...riding, yes….both together? Never. It was a thrill really. I’ve never had arrows coming my way.”

  
Āturpāt turned his head to look at the younger prince, his normally resting eyes were a bit wider now upon hearing the facts.

  
“There is no way you have never ridden and arched? I should have been terrified then. I figured you’d done it before.”

  
Fleur smiled just the slightest, still staring at the other out of the corner of his eye.

  
“Never. I’m good on a horse, with or without a saddle. Or hands to hold me. And I’ve outdone even my own teacher in archery.”

  
The dark brunette exhaled heavily through his nose, like a horse would.

  
“Incredible. Perhaps I have underestimated you. But I will not next time.”

  
Fleur blinked, turning his head now.

  
“Next time? There will be another?” He asks, looking for an answer in brown eyes.

  
“My father has already planned for my return in six years. I will be the ambassador for Perasia to Akielos-Vere. I will need to return for new negotiations. It is then that we will meet again, and you will show me what you’ve really got under those tight laces.”

  
Fleur narrowed his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

  
“Well, in that case, I look forward to your return. Perhaps you will have the chance to prepare for me. I wasn’t built to lose. So you have your hands full and schedule booked.” The young prince spoke confidently, not a wavering in his young, feather-light voice.

  
“I will come with a full armory, armed to the teeth. You will lose on your own turf. I hope you will be prepared to fall. I suggest you not wear your best pants.”

  
“I will dress to impress, and you will lose.”

  
“Not if I can help it.”

 

“What are you going to do about it.”

  
The two were electric, blue and hazel on brown. If anyone strayed in, they would be set aflame, burned alive.

  
“You will see when it comes to you.”

  
“If I allow it to.”

 

The rest of the week was spent in formalities and meetings. Fleur spent his time with one of the sisters, Adrina, in the library, discussing a philosophical book they were studying. Fleur grew curious as time passed though as to why Youtab had not joined them. He got his answer though without ever having to ask.

  
He heard a familiar laugh off in the distance, outside the open windows of the library. He could see the elegant turquoise silks of a young foreign woman. And next to her was an unmistakable figure of Damos, with his red himation over the off-white chiton.

  
Fleur hummed quietly to himself before turning himself back to the book. He didn’t care for such things. Perhaps in time, he figured he may, but right now, his books and studies were most important.

 

The last day had come, preparations were just finishing up to see off the foreign royal family. They all had gathered out on the front steps of the palace, saying their goodbyes and fair wishings.

  
Youtab had hugged Fleur before going to Damos, spending the remaining of the time with him. Fleur almost rolled his eyes but knew better. Not to mention, she was his friend. And that was his brother.

  
Adrina placed a hand on his shoulder, the two facing each other.

  
“I will miss you the most my friend. You are perhaps the most scholarly boy I have ever met. And with such beauty. Your family must be so proud, as I know I am to know you.” She stated, a smile on her face, though it was barely seen past the almost-transparent cloth over her face.

  
“I will miss you too. I will write to you when I can. Tell you of the books I’ve read, and any other crazy things I get myself into it.”

  
“I cannot wait to read about your adventures, young prince.”

  
The two bowed heads gracefully to each other before the princess made her way down the steps. She stopped halfway, waiting for her sister.

  
Youtab was still with Damis, his hands not touching her, but hers placed on his bicep. It was quick, her unpinning the cloth over the lower half of her face and leaning upwards to the teen. Just a peck before the cloth was repinned and she turned to join her sister down the stairs.

  
Iso slapped a hand on his back, saying something as he laughed. Damis looked dumbstruck. A boy with his first kiss. If one could even really call it that.

  
Fleur smiled a bit, watching as the princesses got into the wagon that brought them, the door shutting. It was almost time.

  
He realized then that he had not yet seen one last face.

  
His timing impeccable, the person in question tapped the prince's shoulder, bringing the other to whip around in surprise.

  
“Got you again,” Āturpāt spoke, a slight smile on his lips.

  
Fleur puffed his cheeks playfully.

  
“That will be the last of it. I hope you enjoyed it.”

 

“Oh, I did. The look on your face was priceless. I will get at least one more time out of it. No doubt.”

  
The blonde rolled his eyes.

  
“You’re going to miss your ride,” he said, a brow raised and a half smirk.

  
“Perhaps it will be worth it.” The older prince came forth a step, pulling something from his side, before lifting his hands to place it on the smaller.

  
A golden flower was clipped into blonde hair, pinning it back to keep long bangs out of the way.

  
“Do not lose it!” he says as he rushed off down the steps, already being so late that his father was already having the head of the caravan begin trekking.

  
The teen jumped onto his horse, rearing up the brown mare before galloping off to catch up to his brother and father.

  
Fleur was left, a tinge of a blush on his pale cheeks. Small fingers came to touch over the intricate design. He recalled seeing it once, pinned on the others clothes. He had complimented how nice it looked.


	6. Away From The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything...becomes twisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy crapoly this chapter is loaded.  
> And I mean LOADED.  
> I will say nothing more.  
> Happy reading

With nothing large and barring happening, the years seemed to fly by once more. No visiting kings and queens. Princes or the like.  
The three children of Kings Damen and Laurent were growing quickly. And the next thing they all knew, they were preparing for a massive week-long celebration until the two eldest Prince’s birthday.  
Damocles and Isocrates were turning eighteen. A massive leap into adulthood, where both would be bestowed responsibilities in their kingdom. And said kingdom now wondered. Would either Prince be named to be Crown Prince? It was still a large debate on what should be done and was brought up every single council meeting, no matter of the topics.  
Just as it was now. It was the final meeting to be done before the celebrations, and the joined councils immediately began hounding their Kings.  
“Exalted, Your Highness. We urge an answer about our two Princes. They are both to be eighteen a week from today, and neither has been named Crown Prince yet. Unless you plan on making Blanchefleur Crown prince, we suggest you choose either of the boys before the week is half over.” Spoke a council member. The man was relatively new, having only been on the council for about six years now. He was one most apt to speak up to the kings, being young, in his mid-thirties, and motivated greatly. He preferred getting things done efficiently.  
This topic had not been efficient. The kings have been putting it off for so long, and all of the council members were constantly being bugged about their princes. It was time for a decision to be made.  
Laurent looked at the man with a cool expression. One that had most people feeling rather uncomfortable in their seats by now. But none of them swayed. The time had come.  
“And what of the resentment that may come from one being chosen? How are we to deal with that? Telling one brother that they are more fit than the other. As sore as it still is, we all know how that goes.”  
“But surely they will have to understand why this has to happen. As a large kingdom, we need an heir to be named. Both will be eighteen. The age of an adult. And should both of you fall at any point, we need to have an heir ready. It has been long enough to be decided.” The original speaker, Ferrant, retorted.  
“An heir must be chosen. If you do not want them to be broken up, then choose Blanchefleur. He too would be a good candidate. He is devilishly intelligent and is already entangling himself in government affairs. And he’s to barely be sixteen in a few months.”  
“Oh, don’t bring that one into this. He is hardly fit.” Someone argued.  
“He’ll bring this kingdom to its knees at the flick of his pretty little wrist, and we’ll be doomed. He could never hold up.”  
“Says you. Have you ever even talked to him?”  
“He has. He was scalded by hot, but due words.”  
“That is not it!”  
“Damocles is the perfect example of strength! That’s what we need in this country!”  
“With the brain of a baboon? Hardly! Isocrates has all the brawn and the brains out of the pair! We need both of those things to succeed!”  
“Blanchefleur could outwit them both! He doesn’t need strength!”  
The councilors broke out into all out argument. All the while, Damen and Laurent were left to look at each other and sigh. What a mess this had turned into.  
“We could not...put Fleur up to this...He already has his own inheritance to consider.” Damen spoke to his husband, just loud enough to be heard over the yelling of the councilors, but not heard by them.  
“I would agree to that. It would be too much, taking on both the Province of Hamar and our country by himself. But Damis and Iso...I do not know how they will react to us choosing one of them...We have raised them as equals. I do not wish them to become...ill with jealousy.”  
Damen sighed, looking back over to the squabbling councilors.  
“Perhaps...it is time we talk to the boys themselves. They will be taking on territories of their own in one week. It is not like either will be without a ruling of their own.”  
Laurent nodded. He gazed over the fighting men before lifting up the paperweight he had on his papers and letting it drop loudly onto the hardwood table. Silence came quickly.  
“Get a handle on yourselves. I did not know my government was made up of clucking hens. But if it is, I will be your cock. While you were throwing chicken scratch around about my sons, we have come to agree. We will talk with our sons about the matter, and we will decide from there. We will meet again tonight after we have talked. Adjourned.”  
With that, Laurent and Damen stood, the councilors, dumbstruck, scrambled to stand and bow to their kings. The pair then left, wanting to talk further in private. What were they to ask them? They had to tread lightly. No one wanted bad blood among brothers. It would not be good for the kingdom, as they all knew.

Later that afternoon, Damocles and Isocrates were called in from their daily activities, washed up before meeting their fathers in a sitting room. The two kings wanted the teens to feel as comfortable as possible when they brought about the topic. They did not know if the boys even knew this was a massive dilemma. Or that the issue even existed at all. Neither Damen nor Laurent had ever brought it up to them. The chances of someone else bringing it up at least once was pretty good, but if they’d ever given it thought, who knew.  
Damocles, now at the height of his father, his skin darkened by the summer that he’d spent in Akielos, bright brown eyes open wide and curious. He was bulked heavily with muscle, reminiscent of the youth Damen remembered having. Not that Damen had lost any bit of his massive form. Damocles was now rivaling him for the title of ‘most massive Akielon’.  
Isocrates was slightly thinner than Damocles, his toned muscles built for spear throwing and trident usage. He was also well equipped to use daggers and swords, but spears were his most dominant usage. His skin was lighter that Damocles, having spent his summer off in on the shorelines of Vere. He’d taken to working on fishing boats there and had returned lean and hardened in the eyes.  
Damianos was very proud of both of his boys. They had turned out to be very fine teens, soon to be men. He had not wanted to do this to them, but a choice must be made.  
“Damocles. Isocrates.” Laurent began, sitting back on the couch, a petite cup of tea in his hand. He was as composed as ever, though just beyond the coolness of his exterior, he was burning up.  
The boys sitting on the opposing couch from their fathers straightened up a bit. Laurent always did hold more of their attention on serious matters than Damen did, which was why he would be doing this for the most part.  
“Yes, father.” Damocles responded, wondering what this was going to be about. Neither had done anything stupid on their travels, so they couldn’t have been in trouble.  
“We’ve brought you both here to discuss...a rather large issue. As you may know, as kings, we must choose an heir. You both were first born, so the decision had been made much harder on us. We have put it off as long as we could to raise you both equally. And we are very proud of the both of you. All of your accomplishments have brought us such joy and pride. But now, our hands are being forced. You both will be eighteen in one week. An heir must be chosen.”  
Laurent felt tense, as well as Damen. Neither teen was giving away any sort of stress about the situation. They sat relaxed, looking on like a pair of brothers sitting in on a casual conversation.  
“We still cannot choose, so we decided it was time we brought it to you. To get a feeling for where you both stand on the subject. We do not want this to end in bad blood, or all this time of use raising you as equals will have been for nothing.”  
Damis and Iso looked to each other for a good few seconds, as if having a conversation telepathically. They knew what the other was thinking by now, having lived their entire lives at each other's side. Iso was the first to turn his head to look at his father's, Damis slower to do so as he sat back, draping his arm over the back of the couch. Relaxed, confident. Iso also visibly relaxed as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.  
“There will be no bad blood between us. We have discussed this years ago. We knew you would eventually choose either one of us, and we agreed that whatever decision was made, it would be a good one. I have no doubts about Damocles abilities to rule.”  
“And neither I with Isocrates. We want what is best for our country.”  
“Though, we were sure you would have chosen Blanche.” Iso glanced back to Damis before looking to his parents again.  
“Yeah, I’m rather surprised you haven’t. These past two years, he’s been really avid in our politics. And the amount of information he can spout about just about anything is bordering on ridiculous.”  
“Figured he was the perfect candidate to handle such a large expanse of country.”  
Both nodded, looking at their fathers with raised brows. Neither had expected that they were still being considered for the position.  
They were proud of their little brother. Despite how young he still was, he was blooming into something so wonderful and beautiful. He was smart by all senses. He could figure his way around just about anything at blazing speeds. All fields he studied, he excelled in. Not to mention the deadly accuracy with bows, and graceful but very calculated moves with the sword. He was amazing by all accounts, and they would have been nothing but proud to see their brother with that crown on his head.  
Laurent and Damen had definitely not expected this. Had they already planned for this? But they also figured that their younger brother would be chosen, so it wouldn’t matter anyway. Then again, many people did. Blanchefleur was every bit beautiful as he was intelligent. He also had never truly proven himself yet. He’d hardly ever even left the walls of the palace before. That was his downfall. He was too young to be considered.  
“Many have pushed for such...but your brother, his birthrights were decided before he was even conceived. He is to inherit Hamar in Patras next year. We do not wish to overload him as such.” Laurent revealed. No one knew about this plan, except a very select few.  
“Then you underestimate your own son.” Damis retorts, a brow raised and a side smirk.  
Laurent cocked his head slightly.  
“Really?”  
“Yes. Blanche, we know, can handle anything that is thrown at him.” Iso was confident in voicing this aloud, sounding pre-discussed with his brother.  
“Oh? And how has he proven this?”  
“He hasn’t, but we know he will. I do not think I have ever known anyone with such determination and strength of will. He hates losing, and would never fall unless he wanted to.”  
This reminded Damen of someone greatly. The man beside him, with his back straight and calculated to look as proper as possible, even in the company of his sons. Pure strength of will was something Laurent had a great amount of. All those years of having to deal with his uncle had given him that.  
But Blanchefleur? It seemed he was born with it.  
“Hm...well, this does not put off the fact that we have been given a deadline.”  
“Then we will talk to them. They may know Fleur from the outside. A delicate flower of a body and whip for a tongue. But we knew him better than that. Better than anyone else. He is our brother after all.” Iso declared it with the same amount of confidence as before. Neither teen would back down from it.  
“So neither of you want the crown, it seems, if you are willing to fight to give more time for Blanchefleur to prove himself.”  
“Like we said before, neither of us will fight for it. We want to leave the decisions to the outside sources. We are brothers, no matter what, and we may fight over a lot of things. But a kingdom will not be one of them. It would tear us apart.”  
Laurent considered the two teens, just on the cusp of adulthood. They were intelligent enough to come about it on their own. Maturity was something they still had to grow into, but this shown that they would be nothing less than greatly admirable someday.  
“Very well. Be prepared for a war in the meeting room. Your only weapons will be your tongues. So I hope you’ve taken a page from your brother's book.”  
Two nods, and it was done.

One week later, celebrations began early in the morning. Damis and Iso had been surprised respectively with breakfast in bed and presented with cards handwritten by their fathers, wishing them a happy birthday.  
The two now adults were dressed in their finest clothing. Heavy, detailed fabrics were draped over their bodies, blue and red respectively to each brother’s signifying colors. Golden trimming, however, was the joining theme of them both. And of course, both wore freshly woven laurels for their special day, tiny flowers incorporate in by their brother. The courtyards, dining rooms, and halls were booming with crowds and traffic. It had not been this packed in the palace since Blanchefleur’s birth.  
The two brothers walked side by side, greeting and thanking their guests for coming. After a while, they were getting passed around for conversations and stories of all sorts. Neither had any time to breath, but that was okay. They were adults now. Free to do as they pleased. Damis had eventually been broken away from his brother, swept away by some other nobles that wanted him to meet their daughters.  
Iso was also not excluded from such things either. This was normal, being as they were now free to begin courting as they pleased as well. It was expected of a young man to start doing so. And if not courting, then becoming more familiar with his sexuality.  
Though, each person of royalty and nobility had not shown up to only introduce their daughters and possibly their sons to the well-bred Akielon brothers. They had also brought their own sons to seek out the youngest of the family.  
It was no secret how Fleur had grown from a delicate beauty comparable to that of a blossom, to an ever ethereal image of grace and elegance. His youthful rounded face had nearly remained intact through the years due to his bone structure, though the childish chubbiness was mostly gone. Average limbs and a shapely body were carried in such a sophisticated way, many believed gold ran through his veins in place of blood. Born to be pampered and taken care of.  
Not to mention the most appealing of his features that had caught every eye from the corridor out to the courtyards as he passed.  
Long golden hair that surely came down to his waist fluttered behind him like a cape of precious yellow metal, glinting brightly as soon as he stepped into the sunlight. A single brownish hazel eye, the other an icy blue that which cast his beautifully sculpted face off of its balance, but was all the same, unbelievably stunning. His pale skin was as unblemished and white as a fresh canvas, save for a tiny pink scar on his cheek. But he held his head high on his long neck, showing it off proudly, like a golden token given by a god.  
Nothing about him was out of place. Not the white and silver doublet and pants he wore. Or the boots to match, which had a bit of a higher heel than what was normal for men to have.  
The teen nodded his head gracefully in greeting to anyone he passed that would greet him first, long lashes held low, pink lips in a constant slight upturn, giving him a cool but beautiful expression.  
Gifts of handwritten letters and poems, drawings of fantastic scenes, flowers and jewelry had been arriving at his rooms in the dozens since the start of the week. Princes and nobles alike had been sending them to him in hopes to gain his favor and perhaps his attention. This celebration had been perfect for them to try and court the fifteen-year-old.  
Though, what none of them knew, was that none of the gifts had been touched. All remained on the table brought to hold a vast majority of it in his rooms. The flowers had been arranged in the many vases around his apartments and the letters read, but that was it. He did not pursue any of them. How could he, when he simply held no interest? Letters and the like were deceiving of the person sending them. One could never know what they were truly getting into.  
Fleur preferred getting to know the person in front of him, rather than read a letter about how beautiful he was, and how much the sender would love to meet him. He supposed that if that were true, then they would surely have no problem approaching him?  
But it wasn’t true at all it seemed. It was rare for any prince to approach him, even now that he was presenting himself as available for conversation.  
Damis found Fleur wandering alone, through the courtyards, so he went and caught up with him in a slight jog.  
“Hey, you look lonely. Why so? Did you say something to scare everyone away?” the older asked, a grin on cheeks.  
Fleur looked at his brother, a smile reaching him.  
“I have hardly said a word really. I suppose only older men have any interest in actually talking to me. I receive all of these letters saying how much all of these princes want to meet me, and yet, here I am, all alone.” The blonde chuckles, finding it rather amusing.  
“Maybe you’re more intimidating than they thought. It’s not every day you meet a snake with arms and legs.” Damis joked with a laugh.  
“It is your birthday, so I cannot smack you. But know that in my mind, I have done so.” Mismatched eyes gazed about the crowds, all people having a grand time. A melting pot of cultures mingling in their courtyards in celebration of his two brother’s reaching adulthood.  
Damis ran off after being called for by a group of girls. And that had Fleur wondering as he walked, just where Iso was. Probably doing the same as his ‘twin’. Being cooed over by a group of women, no doubt. And after a while of walking, he saw that he had been partially right. He had a few boys and men fawning over him and clinging to his sides as well, however. A personal preference fact that the blonde stored for later.  
The young teen had been deep in his thoughts as he stared at his brother and his crowd, he had not realized he was making a beeline into another body until he ran directly into it. He was startled greatly, having been pulled from his thoughts so abruptly by crashing into a hard body of metal.  
His eyes were wide, seeing the rather large figure before him that he had just run into. Brown and blue trailed upwards until he caught the face of a lightly tanned man with golden brown hair. His features were sharp but full of life and youth. He was dressed similarly to an Akielon soldier, with a bronze breastplate, two melded wings overlapping on its front in a detailed sign of status. The shoulder plates and gauntlets were of a similar fashion. Leather skirts with bronze pins at the end of each strip resembled that of the sun symbol, and a long blue cape with a golden embroidered sun was draped over his back and shoulder.  
The man dropped to a knee immediately, bowing his head.  
“Prince Blanchefleur. I am terribly sorry. I hope you are not harmed.” He said with utmost sincerity as he held his head down.  
Fleur was in shock at the display. The amount of formality and sincerity all in one had been a strong breeze over him.  
“I...i am fine. Thank you. You may stand.”  
And like a trained soldier following commands, the man stood again, but not without picking up the helmet he had dropped before. Upon seeing it, Fleur immediately knew where this man was from.  
“You must be from Azrule, correct?” The prince suddenly asked the man.  
Azrule was very distant country, sitting on the very other side of the continent. Hundreds upon hundreds of miles away. Their culture, or at least from what Fleur read about, was something like a mix of Patran and Akielion cultures all in one. From the looks of this…rather handsome man, it was at least partially true.  
“Yes, I am. I am here with my king.” This statement had Fleur twisting his head a bit.  
“So you are not of nobility? Or royalty?”  
“No your highness.”  
“Where is your king? I would have figured you would be at his side at all times? Not that you have to be…”  
“He insisted I...go have fun…” The other sounded a bit confused by the choice of words his ruler had used. Like it was just a sentence that had never been constructed to be used in his vocabulary.  
“You are a soldier?”  
“Yes.”  
“What is your ranking?”  
“Captain, your majesty.”  
“Captain. You seem rather young to be a captain. How old are you?”  
“Twenty-two.”  
Still rather young, though, he did recall his Papa telling of how he was 17 and commanding armies. But god only knew how long this guy had been at it.  
The man before him was, like mentioned, was absolutely massive, probably standing around six foot five. Probably taller. He was thick with muscles, like any soldier would be and looked like he would be a challenge to handle, even for his Papa. And if the ridiculously large two-handed sword chained at his hip wasn’t a true signifier of his strength, Fleur didn’t know what would be.  
The blonde then wondered if all Azruleans were this large, or if it was just this one. He couldn’t complain though either way. He was quite the looker in an average sort of way. Just handsome enough to not be your every day passing soldier. Fleur admired it for what it was.  
“Well, I suppose that is a decent age. You must be very good. What is your name?” The other was serious, from his furrowed brows down to his straight stature. He did not look at Fleur like he was a piece of jewelry to be owned. But as a person.  
“Apolotus.” he replied.  
“Apolotus…” Fleur repeated, rolling it over his tongue. “Based off of the sun god Apollo... rather fitting.”  
The man nodded. “Thank you, your majesty.”  
“Please, call me Fleur. I feel I’ve had enough of hearing formalities today. Walk with me...Apollo.” The blonde smiled up at the soldier with a bit of charm before he began walking. Apollo followed just a few steps behind, knowing to keep his place among royalty.  
“I do not think walking behind me is quite the same.” Fleur chuckles as he turns his head to glance at the male behind him.  
“I can not--”  
“Yes, you can. Come. You have my permission.”  
There was a lot of hesitance in the large man coming to match his speed right at his side, the formality most likely had become second nature to the other, Fleur presumed.  
Silence remained among them as the small blonde teen lead their way slowly through the courtyards. They eventually walked far enough away that the chattering of guests was a faint background noise. Birds chirped and flew low here, gathering twigs fallen from the barren trees for their nests.  
It was nearing springtime in Marlas, which was bringing green life back to the landscaping of the courtyards. It was rather beautiful of a sight, and Fleur couldn’t help but admire it like one would with a well-done painting.  
The Prince soon came to a stop at a marble bench, settling down onto the cool, smooth surface with a sigh. He signaled the other male to do the same, which was done with the same amount of hesitance.  
“You are very serious, soldier. War must run through your veins.”  
The brunette looked at the grasses, not making eye contact, knowing it was not appropriate.  
“It is sought after in our militaries. Formality is everything. I had taken it would be the same here.”  
“It is...but I don't care for it when there is someone I just want to have a conversation with. Like you. You’re unreadable. Like a tall stonewall. There's no telling what is on the other side. I find myself brought to it like a bug to a flame. I break formalities as I please. Mostly because I can. Now you know something about me. Tell me something about you. Anything. Then tell me something you notice about me” Fleur sounded entirely interested in the soldier, investing all of his attention in him. He did not know why he was so attracted that he wanted to know more about him. It was like a game. He wanted to crack this man open.  
Apollo sat there, his expression for the first time changing completely. He looked in thought, watching the fluttering of butterflies on the grasses.  
“I...I like to draw. I’ve always been rather good at it I suppose. But I find that my muses are always in the everyday, simple things of life. Like putting on shoes, or eating. It is strange, I know, but I find these things the most beautiful.”  
Fleur had not expected such a confession. He felt like a door had opened to him that was not normally open to anyone else.  
“As for you...I...I do not know what to say…”  
Fleur was snapped out of it by the obvious lie.  
“Oh don’t be like that. There is something. I can see it in your eyes. Just say it. I’m not a complete snake that would fake a tear for sympathy. There is nothing honorable in that.”  
The larger seemed to consider this before sighing.  
“You are very straightforward. You keep nothing to yourself it seems...no matter of the thought, you spew it out so casually. Like it’s small talk. It’s almost crude.” The man admitted, still avoiding eye contact.  
“That wasn’t so hard now was it? And you’re right. I am...sort of. My filter is lacking, but that doesn't mean I don't have one at all. I choose whether or not I want it on or off.”  
“Then it must be off now…” Apollo said without thinking. But he seemed to panic internally because he apologized right away. “Sorry...That was not my place.”  
“No. Don’t stop there...keep going.” Fleur encouraged, his amusement and interest increasing greatly.  
“You are by far the weirdest prince I have ever met...you must be bored to be so interested in me. I am just a soldier.”  
“You are a person that acts like he’s a dime a dozen, but I feel like there's more under that cover. I want to dig it out.”  
“You do not give up, even if it may hurt you or those around you.”  
“You let yourself be commanded because you do not want to think for yourself.”  
“You make yourself unbearable to be around when you lose interest.”  
“You feel awkward because of your height compared to everyone else here.”  
“You have an interest in me and you do not know what it is.”  
Fleur stopped upon hearing this, coming to a realization by the statement. He was right.  
“...you are good at reading people...but play stupid..” Fleur says slowly, sitting back when he realized he had been leaning in during their banter.  
“I do...It’s easier that way.”  
“You dislike casual conversation.”  
“Yes.”  
The blonde chuckled a bit before laughing fully, buckling over as his arms wrap around his own waist. Apollo gave him a curious look, a slight smile on his lips.  
“What’s so funny?” He asks, finding himself chuckling along with him gently.  
Fleur sits back up when his laughing ceases, the cheeky smile still ever present on his face.  
“I just knew there was something about you...No man is so dull...especially one that is so high ranking. You’ve fooled your way to your position, didn’t you? At least partially? You are very smart, but also good with the sword. You use your physique to your advantage. Chances are, you grew up on a farm. Probably hauling hay bales since you’ve been large enough to do so. You dumbed yourself down when you joined the military, playing the part you needed to get where you are. Probably to support your family. The crop had probably gone bad, so they were hurting for money. But now that you are in a comfortable position, you play the part to keep yourself right where you are. Am I right?”  
Apollo blinked at the laid out ‘story of his life’, rather surprised and impressed by the specificness of it.  
“How did you determine any of that? Just looking at me...how.”  
“I’ve got a rather overactive imagination. I like to look at people and come up with their life story. Yours, I based off of the coloring of your skin, the rough look of your hands, the markings, scars I presumed, on your neck and arms. Rope burns are what they looked like. Your body type. It says a lot. But honestly, how right was I?”  
“We hauled alfalfa.” Was all the soldier said, a chuckle escaping.  
“Hm...I really have gotten better at this. Now you. You could keep up with me in bantering about flaws. I bet you could read me. Tell me. I can take it. I’ve lived this life.”  
Apollo turned his head, giving him a slow look over.  
“You are unbelievably spoiled, by your own hand. Your parents have tried to contain you, but could not. Stubborn as can be. Wild as a free-roaming colt, kicking and rearing, fighting anything that comes your way. But when you need true power to win, you turn into a snake...a king cobra, sitting high, flared open and showing your colors. Your venom burns people to put them in their place. But the truth is, you are actually very sweet. You love deeply, and for good reasons. You do not sway in your admirations because you are choosy with them in the first place. Your love for a good game, however, has you forcing yourself into situations and trying to figure out how to get out of them. You are destructive, leaving no rock unturned.You are adored greatly. People chase you for your looks, but you long for more. You want something intelligent. Something that can keep your mind occupied and stimulated because you simply don’t have enough of that in your daily life. You yearn for the adventures you read in the books you spend your life reading. You are a walking contradiction.”  
Fleur felt his breath slipping from him. His life story was all out before him, in a montage of words created by a stranger. That was him.  
“You are better than I expected. You dug deeper than...anyone...and we only just met thirty minutes ago.”  
“I am a captain. I have to read people. I have to know the good ones as soon as I see them. I have to know what they are made of just at a glance.”  
The prince felt a twinge. Something unfamiliar.  
“Know the good ones…” He repeated after the other, rolling it around in his mind. Fleur didn’t necessarily think of himself as good. He knew that he was not the kindest of people. He had walls around himself, barring his true self away so as to not look weak.  
Since the beginning, his brothers had been the prime examples of princes. He heard it time and time again. And the looks people gave Fleur when mentioning that he was the youngest prince. It was never the look of admiration or awe in his abilities. It was always his looks. Eyes, hair, skin. A delicate flower. He did not want to be weak.  
He wanted to be strong. Not to be left behind. He wanted to be up there with his brothers. His father. His papa. But even to this day, he still felt like he was miles away, with no hope of catching up.  
“You are a good one, you know. Despite the amount of venom you are capable of spewing. You are good. You do what you think is best, and even if it meant you would fall, you would put yourself in front of someone else. I know you would. Because you know what it is like to be vulnerable. Open. You have always felt like you were drowning, but you are not. Your head is above the surface, your feet touching the sand below. The only thing holding you from coming to land is yourself. You are good...Prince Blanchefleur.”  
The prince sat there, his blanked of most expression, except one of loss. Loss for words. Of thoughts. Of emotion. This man had spelled it all out for him. Words he did not even want to tell himself. He was...glad?  
“I…”  
“Perhaps it was not my place to go so far. I apologize.”  
“No. No, I’m...glad you did. I’ve never heard it all out in the open like that. It’s really put it all into a different perspective for me. Something for me to dwell on for a while. Thank you….Apollo. Soldier of the sun.”  
“Anything I can for you, young prince.”  
The two sat in silence for a long while, just watching the peacefulness that spring brought around to them. Birds, bees, butterflies, fluttering blossom petals.

An icy breeze picked up, and despite how thick the doublet was to keep the prince warm in the very late winter air, he still shivered. It was far colder than it was thought to be today. Apollo looked over upon seeing the shiver out of his peripheral vision. Not even a second thought was spared as he unpinned the long sweeping cape from his shoulders and placed it over the prince. There was enough of the fabric to cover him plenty like a blanket would.  
A surprised look was shot to the soldier who now sat in just his dark blue tunic, leather skirts and bronze armor. The helmet sat on the grass between his feet.  
“Thank you…” Fleur pulled the cape closer around himself, feeling much warmer now. The soldier only nodded, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. All was at ease  
Then a single arrow landed a mere 2 feet from the princes left foot. The teen gasped, eyes wide in horror. He looked up, looking all around. It had come from over the great walls of the palace.  
Apollo was the first to act. He stood up, grabbing the prince and shielding him beneath him as a rain of arrows came from over the walls.  
Screams in the distance were of fear, but then they turned more blood-curdling. Pain.  
Fleur was terrified. He did not know what was going on, even as he lay on the grass just below a great Azrulean soldier. He was safe, that much was certain. But his thoughts strayed to his family. They were somewhere in the courtyards, but it was possible they had also gone inside to mingle. He did not know.  
He needed to know but did not get to voice himself before he was lifted so easily from the ground and run across the grasses, avoiding where any of the larger crowds had been. They were running towards the nearest gate, off to the far west.  
Fleur could do nothing but be carried off to who knows where. He did not know what was happening. Then he saw that the guards of the west gate had been killed. Apollo pulled his great sword from his side and slammed it into the lock, breaking it with such ease before opening the gates and running out.  
The young prince then realized that at least a hundred men stood just outside of these gates, and he panicked. But they did not harm them as Apollo walked through, heading to the back where a horse was waiting.  
The men did not need any command to begin storming inside of the gates.  
Fleur began to scream, knowing now what was happening. They were being invaded. Akielos-Vere was such a massive land mass, anyone would be blind to not see that. They were most vulnerable now, their forces spread thin throughout the area to keep an eye out. It had not been hard to cut a path large enough for an army to ease in.  
His fathers would be killed. As would his brothers. Everyone that he held dearest to him would be dead, and there was nothing he could even do. He was on a horse, held tightly to avoid attempt of escape, and they were riding away.  
He let himself be fooled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am playing with everyone's heart. Especially my own. But hey, where is the fun if there isn't at least a little bit of heartbreak? This is what I was talking about. Things about to start getting crazy. And I am EXCITE.  
> In all honesty, I had been unsure if I really wanted to go down this path or not. But I said fuuuuuuck iiiiiit. Live a little, Stick fox. So here we are.  
> Also, these comments are making my day. Greatly. Like, I get all smiley when I see I have a new one. It keeps me going~ So keep on sending them!  
> Expect some art to be made by me of some of these characters. Follow Sitical.tumblr.com! I already have a piece of the three brothers there!


	7. Where Do We Go From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Blanchefleur being difficult, and his kidnapper just not having it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say nothing.  
> Happy reading >u>

At some point during the ride, Fleur had cried hard enough to put himself into a heavy sleep. He woke again when the galloping slowly came to a stop. Sleepy eyes slowly opened, looking around blurrily, trying to figure out where he was. His face felt stiff and puffy, likely from the crying he had done just hours before.  
When he finally really came to, his eyes snapped open wide. He was still sitting backward on the saddle, right in front of a certain Azrulean that had taken him. He was the enemy. The man he was abducted by was looking down at him with gentle blue eyes, as if having waited for him to wake before dismounting. Fleur threw himself back, laying partially on the horse's neck as he struggled to get off.  
“Ugh, what the fuck!” He screamed before he half jumped, half fell off the stallion. Scratching his way back up to his feet, he began running. Apollo rolled his eyes and hopped off the horse, jogging after him.  
“Stop running! You’re going to get lost!” He yells at the blonde, picking up his pace, trying to catch the other before he got too far.  
“Fuck off! You killed my family! Fucking barbarians!” He screamed back, taking sudden turns, trying to shake the soldier.  
Apollo stopped, just watching him for a moment.  
“Fine, keep running! I hope you get eaten you spoonfed little…” He bit his finger, just trying to stay calm.  
With a heavy breath, the brunette bolted, sprinting after him again. He could barely keep up with the smaller’s agile twists and turns, but he was eventually able to snag a sleeve and yank him. The prince lost his balance easily and smacked directly into the tree he was trying to turn around. The soldier pulled him up and tossed him over his shoulder without another word. The prince lay limp for a few seconds, head in a daze from hitting the tree. But like a little wind-up toy, he was back at it, now kicking and screaming. He was rendered completely useless though like this, but it didn't stop him from trying.  
“Ugh...ow! Fucking dick! Let me go! I’ll kill you in your sleep! I’ll claw your eyes out and let the birds feed on you!”  
“Quiet will you? You’re drawing attention to yourself.”  
“Good! Maybe they’ll kill you and return me to my castle!”  
The man said nothing, just walking casually back to the horse. And when they returned, he pulled Fleur down off his shoulder and set him down. The blonde tried to bolt but was caught by the wrist.  
“Just stay still, will you? You’re being difficult.”  
“You fucking kidnapped me! Why would I want to stick around and see what you’re going to do with me! You king is probably waiting somewhere for you to bring me and present me as a prize. Just a small token compared to what he’s just gained over all!”  
Apollo just sighed, pulling a rope from the saddlebags. Whipping Fleur around before he could do anything, he tied his hands together. Another rope was pulled before the man side swept the prince with hardly any effort, kneeling down to tie him at the ankles.  
“There. Now sit, and stay. We’re far enough out here, wolves are common. Unless you _want_ to be eaten.”  
Fleur gulped at this, his face still twisted into a scowl. But for once, he listened. He sat still, leaning back on the tree the man had left him against and remained silent, merely watching the other go about whatever it was he had to do.  
Two large branches were ripped from the trunks of trees and driven into the ground before a canvas was unraveled and placed over them. Fasteners and ties were pounded into the ground and the tree Fleur leaned on. He realized it was a shelter. They were staying the night here.  
Another canvas was thrown over, covering the two open ends enough to keep the wind out. It was cozy inside.  
Fleur sighed, feeling anxious. He wanted to know whether or not his family was okay. If they had somehow made it out. He wanted to believe that. But he knew the odds were slim. They had been surrounded, overtaken easily. It should have never been that easy. How…  
A flap opened and the huge man crawled in, a bundle of furs in his arm. He began to lay it out, moving Fleur just once to get the full ‘tent’ laid out. One spare bundle was just left off to the side. The man reached out of the little tent and grabbed a bundle of materials.  
“You have to change.”  
Fleurs eyes widened.  
“No.”  
“Yes. If they find you, you will die. Not a second thought about it. You have to change.”  
“I would rather--...wait, what? What do you mean they?” Apollo blinked, looking like he was just about done. He was unamused, eyelids low.  
“Just come here so I can untie the rope. You have to change. If we are caught, I do not think I can keep you safe. This is for your own good.”  
“Answer me. What do you mean? What is going on.”  
“Change first. Then I’ll explain.”  
Fleur groaned before moving forward, letting the other untie his hands first. A look was given before he even touched the ropes at his ankles.  
“Where am I going to go? I don’t even know where we are.” The man sighed and untied him. He was free, but he didn’t move to run.  
“I am not changing with you here.”  
“Are you seriou--”  
“Out.”  
Apollo took a breath and backed out of the tent, letting the flap fall as he sat outside of it. Fleur realized almost immediately that the ties of his doublet were at his back.  
“Um...I guess I do need you here…”  
A bit of shuffled clothing could be heard before the man came back in.  
“You are such a pain.”  
“So are you. Talk to me. This lacing is going to take you a while.” The teen turns, revealing the laced ties at his back. Apollo felt ready to just pull out a knife.  
“I knew of the attack. I was to enter with a faux king and find my way to the youngest prince. It was on my decision. I was to either kill you if I felt you would be of no use. Or take you and bring you back to the king. Things changed. I talked to you. You were...so very different than what any description of you I had read. I couldn’t kill you. And the thought of presenting you to the king... I could not fathom it. He would have broken you. I couldn’t do it. When the arrows came, I made my decision. I escaped the way it was planned I was to, should I decide to deliver you. Out the west gate. I rode us out west, then to the north, out of any possible routes they would think to look for us.”  
He said all of this while he carefully undid each tie, inexperienced and slow. It was done, however, by the time he finished talking, the entire back open now. Fleur pealed himself from it, tossing it off to the side. He wore a lilac dyed, loose shirt underneath.  
“So...you decided you liked me and risked your own life to get me out. You risked your entire life for someone you just met. You must be a fool.” Fleur spat, glancing back at the other.  
“But... I do thank you...should my parents...and my brothers have fallen…” His breaths grew shaky, almost as if he would not be able to continue. “Then I will fight to take back my country.”  
Apollo looked down to the furs and sighed.  
“Well, if that’s all, I’m going to make the fire.”  
Blanchefleur nodded, waiting expectantly for him to leave before pulling off his shirt. He did not want to be alone for too long, not wanting to slip into his thoughts. So he rushed in changing into the commoner clothes the man had left him.

While Fleur changed, Apollo spent his time gathering wood and the like to start a fire. It hadn't taken him long to return back and dig up a small hole in the dirt. “Is this too much?” A gentle voice spoke, coming out from the makeshift tent. It was Fleur, wearing nothing but a massively oversized tunic, both of his shoulders and half of his upper arms exposed completely. It was long enough to be a dress down to his mid-thigh.  
The blonde huffed, pulling his long hair over his shoulder so he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable. But of course, it was a facade. Apollo turned from where he was kneeling next to a pile of gathered wood. The twig he’d had in his mouth to chew on casually as he worked fell, his eyes widening just the slightest.  
“Oh my god, why would you come out like that?”  
“It’s supposed to be a disguise right? What better way to hide me than to make me a woman?”  
“More like a houseboy...I...please put something on.” The man whipped his head back to the pile of wood, getting right back to work. He could not believe the other had actually come out like that. And just after he was bitching about how he wouldn’t change around him.  
Suddenly, he felt a light, warm body leaning on his back.  
“You’re so bashful. Can’t handle a pair of white legs?” Fleur teased, resting all of his weight on the other.  
“You’re a prince.”  
“So even now, you still keep your formalities? Come on. You can’t hold that up forever. We’ve got to be a team now, remember? Or this will all be for nothing.”  
“Fine, but….just...put your pants back on for now. There is no way you aren’t cold. You are not getting sick on my time.”  
A groan escaped the teen.  
“Ugh, fine. You are no fun at all.”  
“Don’t you get any pervy ideas, you strange little prince.”  
“Why not? I’ll be eighteen soon enough. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But you’d be so old by then. Ew.” Fleur pushed himself off the man, making his way back to the tent.  
“Do we have anything to eat?” Came the young voice, muffled through the tent.  
“I have a little bit. You didn’t eat at the celebration?”  
“No…”  
“Why not?”  
“... I don’t...like eating in front of people.”  
Apollo blinked at this, stopping for a second. He wondered why. But he decided to just leave it be. It was the other’s problem, and he seemed hesitant in even bringing it up.  
“The bag with the blue embroidery has rations.”  
A moment passed before there was a reply.  
“Thank you.”  
When Apollo turned around after the fire was started, he was greeted with a rather peaceful scene of Fleur sitting on an old stump nearby. He was peeling an orange oh so delicately with tiny pale fingers, dropping the peels to the dirt below. He was still in the tunic, his pants weren’t actually pants, Apollo found. But some sort of capris that stopped just below the knee, leaving the entirety of his calves out in the open. His dainty feet were bare, toes spread and entangled with soft grasses. Long golden hair fell over a surprisingly contented face.  
The prince was just about to plop a slice of the now fully peeled orange into his mouth but stopped upon spotting the soldier staring at.  
“Have you nothing better to do.” He rebuked, the serene look upon his face replaced by a scowl. Apollo recalled that the other didn’t like eating around others once more, and turned away.  
“Actually, I don’t.”  
“So this is dinner? Really?”  
“What do you want me to do? Hunt? With what?”  
“Have you no outdoor skills, farmer boy? Or are you only accustomed to hauling _alfalfa_? Or was that a lie too.”  
Apollo groaned, standing up but not turning to face the other.  
“That wasn’t a lie. Nothing about me was.”  
“Hmm, I don’t know if I believe that.”  
“Do you want dinner or not.”  
A puff of air that sounded like a huff was released behind him. He knew he won this round...maybe. Was there truly any winning against a cobra?  
“So how are you going to do it?” There it was.  
“I don’t know, I’ll figure something out.”  
A muffled hum came, probably from a full mouth contemplating in thought.  
“If we only had a bow. I know I could get something.”  
“You?”  
“Yes me. Do you think I’m just some spoon-fed priss?”  
“That's loaded. But yes, I do. You’re a prince.”  
“And? We hunt for sport, and we eat what we kill.”  
“What have you killed before?”  
He was waiting for that bit of hesitation that would catch the other in a lie, but it never came. The blondes response was immediate.  
“Boar and elk.”  
Apollo couldn’t stop himself from turning and looking at the smaller.  
“Really?”  
“Yes. Vere is well known for elk in the winter. Father and I would hunt them every so often. Twice the kill has been mine. And boar, at least twice a summer, the kill was mine. I’m a better shot than most would think.”  
“Hah, uh yeah, I wouldn’t even think you could pull the string back far enough to do anything.”  
Fleur gave him a look, orange slice halfway to his mouth, as if waiting. But for a split second, it seemed he decided something else. The slice was tossed into his mouth, and he chewed.  
“Perhaps something can be made, if you really think you can catch us something.”  
“I can, and I will. You look like you eat a lot. I’ll get us four rabbits.”  
“I’ll still be surprised if you even graze one. I hope you know what you’re setting yourself up for.”  
The prince gave him a look that said ‘Right back at ya.’

After a while of Apollo figuring out how to fashion a makeshift bow that wouldn’t snap upon use, he and Fleur set off in search of rabbits. The prince remained barefoot, feeling more stealthy and wild that way. Naturally, Apollo had rolled his eyes upon hearing this but was greatly amused by the teen's imagination.  
He kept a distance from the other, not wanting to ruin his stealth, but also wanting to keep an eye on him. He looked like something one would see in a book of fairy tales. An elven one treading lightly on bare, delicate feet, a wood bow crafted almost crudely from a tree branch and plant fibers. His long hair was what had mostly put up this surreal aura about him. It was so golden, anytime a patch of light trickled through the cover of the trees, his hair glowed like a lamp in the dark.  
It wasn’t long before the young male came to pause, standing stalk-still. Apollo froze, watching intently. The movements of arms and bow were blurred, and before he’d even realized it, the arrow had been shot and Fleur was moving.  
A rustle in the bushes could be heard before a golden head popped out, holding one dead rabbit by the foot between forefinger and thumb.  
“You owe me some damn good roast rabbit.”  
“I’ll see what I can do. But you’ve got four more to catch.”  
“Nah, you can starve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven people are just forest gays. Fleur is a forest gay.  
> Also, i had not entirely proofread this. I will come back and fix it. Sloppy sloppy


	8. Hold Onto Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Fleur and Apollo travelling shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has felt like an eternity. But here we are. With Chapter 9. Yay!  
> Its almost a filler, because I don't want to run through this whole thing too quickly. I really want to draw it out, really test out my skills to endure writing random shit in. Because I seem to be having such troubles.  
> Anyways, I won't hold you up.   
> Read and enjoy the two babes on their journey!  
> Don't forget to comment and leave me some love!!

Apollo’s eyes were on Fleur as the small male wiped his face delicately after just having finished eating.

“...I cannot believe you just ate two whole rabbits.”

“This is why I don’t eat around people. Since i don’t have the appetite of a tiny bird, they give me such a look. I eat small portions when I’m forced to the dining table, then i have food brought to my rooms for when i retire for the night. The physicians do not know why i eat so much. I have never gained so much as a pound for it. It’s supposed my body just burns it off quicker than i can gain. Therefore, i am always hungry.”

The soldier did not have words for this, so he just merely nodded. He himself had put away two whole rabbits and a handful of rather tart berries the other had found. Now he sat, leaning against a log that had been pushed over by the fire, feeling content. The days ‘activities’ had really taken it out of him.

“So...Apolotus,” Fleur began, moving to lean against the same log, a two-foot distance put purposefully between them. “What are the plans. My castle has been invaded, and I’m to assume that...my family is dead. What am I to do? Just run away and hide? We find a place to build our little cottage way out where no one will ever find us?”

Apollo glanced at him before looking back to the flames before them.

“Do you have any alliances? I heard you were rather charismatic, so i would be surprised if you didn’t.”

The prince pressed his lips, looking on in thought. Did he have any alliances?

“Well uh...I don’t know if you would say charismatic. I get dragged into a lot of things. I’m that unfortunate sort. I just know how to talk. The only person i could really think that could...or at least might help me...is someone from Perasia…”

Blue eyes narrowed.

“That is terribly far. We’d need to find somewhere closer to stay, then perhaps send a messenger.”

They both sat in silence for a while, lost in their thoughts of what to do. Then Fleur sat up, eyes wide in realization.

“I have my own little kingdom!” He exclaimed, looking to Apollo.

“Wait, what? What do you mean, ‘little kingdom’? What is that even supposed to mean?” 

The blonde sat on his knees and shook the large male's shoulder.

“I was born solely to be an heir to a Patran province! I doubt you’ve ever heard of it, but it’s this city by the sea. I’m the son of the princess there. I’m supposed to inherit it by my birthday. That’s two months away. They can help us! Do you understand now?” 

Apollo looked a little turned around and confused, but still nodded.

“I mean...I think? So let me get this straight...you are the sole heir to a city in Patras. So regardless of here, you are still a prince?”

“Precisely. I’ve only ever met my mother once...she would recognize me and take me in after hearing what’s happened.”

“How can they help though?”

“Well, you said that we need somewhere to harbor us for a while till we can get some real help. Don’t you think that would be a good start?”

Apollo gave him a hard look, sighing as he thought. Fleur seemed very sure about this, his face full of something close to childish confidence and bravado.

“I suppose it would be. I do not know how to get there, so we will have to stop somewhere for directions in the morning.”

“Right. And I’m not going to ride behind you the whole way.”

“You don’t have to.”

Fleur blinked.

“I had a pack horse waiting here. That’s where i got the furs.”

The blonde nodded, seeming to make the connections.

“Well good. Alright, so it’s settled then. We’re heading to Patras. All i know is that Hamar is right on the edge of Patras. It borders the small country of Wolvane.”

Apollo seemed rather weary upon hearing this.

“Wolvanes would surround an Azrulean and skin him the moment they lay eyes upon one.”

“Well then, we’re gonna have to give you a better change of clothes then. They shouldn’t suspect a thing. You could be Veretian for all they know.”

“Are Veretians stupidly tall?”

Silence.

“You’ve got a point. But it’ll be fine. When they realize who i am, no harm will be brought.”

“You’re so sure of yourself.”

“Always.”

They stared at each other for a few quiet seconds, as if assessing each other's capabilities. 

They hadn’t been this silent together since their ride here. Now that Fleur was putting himself as an equal to Apollo, the elder got to really look him in the eye. He got to make his true just-at-a-look judgment of him without ranks keeping his eyes from lifting from the floor.

Fleur held himself with such self-assurance, the aura about him was gentle, yet passionate. Apollo just didn’t know how to place this kid into any one category. He was a blur of emotions and traits, who could really be sure which ones were actually Fleur’s. Maybe they all were? Maybe none. He played it all so well, like he was fit for any role thrown at him, there was just no telling who this prince really was on the inside. 

All they needed was trust for each other now, however.

“It’s going to be a long ride tomorrow. We should sleep. We leave at dawn.” Apollo never looked away from the teen, blue on ice and dirt. 

“We have to squeeze into that tiny tent…”

“Or you can sleep on the horse. Your choice.”

Fleur stood suddenly, dusting himself of ground remnants before meandering his way to the makeshift sleep tent. Apollo followed, more slowly, allowing the younger to settle himself before he’d come in.

When he entered, he saw the small blonde all curled up close to the tree. The spare furs hadn’t been touched, which made think twice about how entitled he thought Fleur was. But he didn’t waste any time before unfolded the fur and laying it on the teen. The lithe teen was more likely to freeze over than himself, after all. 

Fleur moved his head upon the blanket being draped over him, seeming to be a bit confused. He said nothing however as his head lay back down, relaxing once more. 

Apollo settled himself to where his back was up against the canvas, staring at the back of the prince. His eyes stared ahead in the dark for a while, just lost in his thoughts. It was still hard to believe, however, that he had done this. Not only had he disobeyed orders, but now he was helping the kid in regaining his kingdom. Whether or not that would be successful, he did not know, but he was doing it.

If the Azrulean army ever found him, he would be dead for sure.

‘At least i did what i thought was right…’ he thought, eyes slowly beginning to slip closed.

⇩⇩⇩⇩

Dawn came too soon it felt. The horses were getting restless at their leads, a sure sign that morning had come. 

Apollo shifted, his eyes still not quite open. It was rather chilly out, therefore Apollo felt a bit of cold on his skin, except for a rather large portion of his body. He wasn’t really sure why it was warm there, and he silently hoped he hadn’t somehow pissed himself before waking. 

He managed one eye just open enough to take a glance down, spying a blur of yellow hardly an inch or so from his chin. It took a few more blinks to finally come to a further awakening to see the situation in which he awoke to. Fleur had snuggled himself up to Apollo’s side, his little body, even wrapped in white fur, was dwarfed by the soldier’s massive form.

The man blushed just the slightest, unsure of what to do. Should he just get up and start the day? Wake the other, then get up? He didn’t feel like getting punched so early in the morning.

With a sigh, he lifts a hand, placing it on the fur-covered lump and gently shook.  
“Hey...um..Fleur? Wake up. Come on, we gotta get moving.” He said awkwardly. The brunette was not used to such close quarters with someone.

The blonde hadn’t budged in the least bit, sleeping about as soundly a river rock at the bottom of the ocean. Apollo sighed, shaking him more now, just needing the other to at least wake up. But when the prince hadn’t even batted an eyelash in waking, the soldier finally decided to carefully push the prince over enough so he could get up.

However, how could that ever go smoothly? As soon as he sat up, the prince awoke, oh so gracefully. He stretched out much like a cat would. But one stay arm had other ideas, getting thrown and locking out, going palm first right into Apollo’s face.

“Ugh, really? I was trying to avoid this…” Apollo said, the palm still very much in his face.  
“Mmm?” Fleur hummed, still half asleep. He had a half smile upon his rounded cheeks, eyes barely even open, his eyelashes looking even longer than normal.  
“Oh...M’surry…” the young male slurs, removing his palm.

“I’m sure you are. Anyways, get up. Gotta pack it up and start moving. I want to at least get more out of this area...We may be four hours away, but that doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable. They’ll realize by this afternoon that I’m not returning to the camp. They’ll have me branded a traitor, and i want us to be long gone.”  
Fleur rolled onto his stomach, stretching out still, then relaxed, resting his head on his forearms.

“Mkay...be right there…” He says breathily, not seeming like he’d be moving anytime soon. Apollo just rolled his eyes and crawled out, stretching once he had the space to do so. His body cracked in multiple places, feeling good all around. After grabbing a quick breakfast of jerky, he set about packing things up, evening out packs so each horse would have about an equal amount. When he was finished, the prince was finally coming out from the makeshift tent, folded bundles of furs in his arms.

“I’ll take those.” The man says, taking up the furs easily from the smaller, going to pack them away onto the horses. 

Upon turning around, he saw that Fleur was just standing there awkwardly, looking unsure. Like he didn’t know what to do to do with himself. Of course, the teen never had to do any of this sort of stuff before. If he went out, all arrangements would be set up for him.

“You can go ahead.” The soldier states, nodding to one of the horses.  
Fleur gave him another unsure look, eyes darting around nervously. The blonde was probably wishing now that he’d done more menial little things, like helping with setups and cleanups. But he was a prince. Who would have known he’d have needed to know any of this.

Apollo just shrugged it off, walking off to make the last rounds of the area to be sure they wouldn't be leaving anything behind. With the final sweep completed, the soldier mounted his horse, then looked at prince beside him.

“Please tell me you know how to ride a horse.” He was joking of course, and the killer look on the princes face made it all worth it.

“Come on. We have a long ways ahead of us.”

“If we ever actually figure out where the hell we are.” The prince retorted, his face twisted unamusedly.

That was true. They had no idea where they were. Or where they should be heading. All Apollo knew was that they were facing the Northwest, and he hoped there would be something along that way.

↓↓↓↓

They'd been riding for hours, on and off from a canter to a walk. They stopped once to give the horses a chance to drink from a small pond they came across and to have some lunch. But afterward, they didn't stop. 

Fleur was intent on reaching Hamar as soon as they could. The thought of some barbarians filling his home. Overrunning the halls he grew up running through. The courtyards he'd played with his brothers in. The rooms he'd learned his life lessons. His fathers. His brothers. He did not know if they were okay. But all of this, all that he was about to do, was for them. 

He would fight for his kingdom, tooth and nail. His people needed him now, though he could do nothing as he rode further and further away from everything he'd ever known. 

By nightfall, they reached a small outlying town, just inside of the border of Patras. Pulling the horses to a stop just outside of the main street next to a building, Apollo dismounted.  
“What are you doing?” Fleur asked, seeming a bit confused, but did not dismount.

“Come down. You need a disguise.” Apollo says quietly, rummaging through a saddle bag.  
“A disguise...wonderful. Shall I remove my pants now.”

“Please don’t.” The man grumbled before he finally pulled something from the bag. A long dark strip of cloth.

“What is that for?” The blonde asked as he set his feet on the ground below, still barefoot.  
“Your eyes. You’re going to be blind.”

Fleur blinked, giving the man a dead stare.

“Blind. So I’m not going to be able to see anything? How the hell do you expect--”

“Just...you’re going to have to trust me. We’ll get recognized immediately if you don’t cover those things up.”

“ _Those things?_ Excuse you, sir, these are my eyes. I need to see.”

“Yeah, and those eyes are of yours will get us caught. Word spreads like wildfire. You’ll have to trust me. I want nothing more than to get us out of here, but we need supplies and fresh horses.”

“And you stink. So a bath.”

“Precisely. All which require people looking at us to get anywhere. So you are going to be a blind woman.”

“With pants….”

Apollo brought a hand up to rub his temple.

“Okay, if you _really_ want to take your pants off, then do it. I’m not gonna argue.”

“It’ll help me play the part better. Hard to be a lady with pants on.”

With one swift push, the pants were off and stuff into a bag. Blue and brown eyes were staring expectantly, waiting to be wrapped.

“Let’s do this. I trust you to be my eyes.”

“You’ve got my word.”

With that, Apollo placed one end of the wrap on the others closed right eye, then began wrapping, adjusting the others long hair as he went. When he finally tucked the other end in, adjusting a few pieces of hair after, he took a step back. 

“Okay, maybe you were right about the pants...It would have thrown you off all sorts.”

“Told you.”

“Anyways, let's go. Hold onto my arm.” He says as he grabs the reins of his horse, waiting for the other.

“Give me your arm first, idiot. I can’t see you.”

“Er, right.”

Taking a step back, he placed a gentle hand on the others, letting him feel his way up to his bicep, which he gripped onto tightly. With both horses in tow, they walked out onto the street.

“Can I get some shoes darling. The ground hurts my feet terribly.” Fleur said after a minute. It threw Apollo off a bit with the lover's name, but he immediately shook himself of all thought.

“Oh, sure. As soon as we find a place.”

The only got a few elongated stares from passers-by, but otherwise, they were getting by without a single problem. Just a man and woman passing through town, getting supplies.

They stopped at a food stall first, Apollo looking over the array of fresh produce. Picking out a few things quietly, he paid with some coins and a nod before moving on, having Fleur hold the bag of packed food.

Next, they visited a general stand, picking out a few small supplies like rope, some knives, and a sack. Apollo was about to pay, but he saw something on the wall just behind the man running the stand.

“How much is that?” He asks in rather good Patran, pointing to the object on the wall.

“15 silver.”

“12.” He bargained.

“14”

“18 for the whole set.”

“Fine.”

He pays up, taking the supplies and packing them onto the horses before they continue walking.

“I didn’t know you could speak Patran,” Fleur states rather amusedly, a little smile on his face.

“Believe it or not, i like learning languages. I stayed on the Western border of Patran for a while, so i had some time to learn it from the locals.”

“Interesting.”

Luckily, a stand right next to where they sold horses had shoes to buy. Since Fleur couldn’t see, Apollo had to make his best judgment.

“These look comfortable.”

“...that makes me worry.” Fleur had a small frown on his face, the tell-tale sign of his disapproval.

“You just need something to walk in.”

“Well, I don’t want to look stupid. I may be blind, but I’m still fashionable.”

This statement had the ladies in the stand giggling at the couple's antics. One of them, still smiling, came up.

“Here, I’ll help.”

After a few moments of the woman and Fleur making conversation about how men can’t choose decent women’s items to save their lives, the blonde finally had some shoes on his feet.

“You and your husband have a nice trip now.” The lady called as they began to leave.

“We will, thank you, miss!”

Apollo, once turned away, had quite look on him.

“Husband?”

“Don’t be daft. You know that's exactly what this looks like. A handsome young man with his just as beautiful little wife, strolling town for supplies, arm in arm.”

The soldier sighed upon realizing it was true. It was good, he supposed. It was a disguise they would need to do more than once, no doubt, so he would have to get used to it.

Stopping just next door, Apollo left Fleur outside with the horses as he entered the stables to find someone. Fleur gently patted one of the horse's noses, smiling even though he could not see them. It was only a few moments before Apollo returned with someone to get an appraisal on the horses.

Fleur was left to himself off to the side, waiting for them to come to a deal. However, something caught his senses. A most delectable scent wafting through the air. Curiosity had Fleur slowly wandering off, following the smell even though he could not see a thing. Apollo, still bargaining, had not noticed the blonde teen making his way further off from him.

The prince eventually came to where the scent was strongest. It smelt so good, and yet he had no idea what it was. Suddenly, a loud, but warming voice came booming over his ears.  
“Well, hello there Ma’am.” came the greeting from what Fleur could only assume was a cheery man in his mid-fifties.

“Hello...I could smell something quite delightful from across the way. I just have to know what it is.”

“Oh, you must be talking of the sweetbreads. Would you like to try one?”

Fleur blushed a little, playing his part of the shy little blonde woman. He brought up a hand to cover his mouth shyly, a little smile on his lips.

“May I? It smells so good.”

The sound of footsteps could be heard fading, then returning. A warm hand took his and something else warm was placed in his hand.

“There you go, sweet little miss.”

“Oh dear, how much. I’ll fetch my husband.”

“Oh no no. Courtesy of a humble baker. You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Something so sweet deserves something just as sweet. Now try it. See what you think.” The man sounded rather happy, true to his words.

Not another second was wasted before he sunk his teeth into the soft, warm bread. It had a glazing on top made of butter and cinnamon, it tasted like. The bread itself was very textured and came off easily. The sweetness of it had Fleur smiling greatly.

“Oh, this is delightful.”

The baker made a sound of cheerfulness.

Meanwhile, Apollo had finished making his bargain and moved their supplies to the new horses. When the last bag was tied on, the man turned to call for Fleur. But he saw the small blonde was not where he’d left him.

A pain in his chest and stomach grew worse by the second as he looked all around the immediate vicinity.

“Fucking shit, i lost him. God dammit….where...where...Whe--”

Apollo was about to hop on a horse to go on a search, but he spotted a head of golden hair just across the rather busy street. Long golden locks, blue oversized tunic with a rope tied at the waist, thin white legs. It had to be him. So after calming himself from his mini panic-attack, he walked the horses across the way to the stand where he spotted the prince.  
It seemed the male was eating something, and upon coming closer, he saw a hand-sized round loaf of bread with some kind of glaze over top.

“Lover, you scared me. Why did you run off like this.” Apollo said, cringing at himself internally.

Fleur turned his head at the sound of his voice, looking at him even though he could not see.

“Oh, beloved, you must try this sweet bread. It is the sweetest thing i have ever had.”  
Apollo looked to the baker man, who had the largest, cheerful smile on his rather chubby face. The man indeed was somewhere in his fifties, and rather round in shape. He was rather tall, however, but nowhere near Apollo’s towering height.

The baker turned his attention from the spritely, shy little Fleur, to Apollo. His look changed from absolute delight to shock. It was possible he had never seen such a monstrous man before. 

Apollo, in all of his more than six foot and a half-length into the air, muscles so large they bulged slightly inside of his supposed-to-be loose shirt. He had a very handsome but sharp face, one that had seen war firsthand. A soldier no doubt.

Apollo barely spared the baker a second look as he came close to Fleur, leaning down to the offered sweetbread. He took a bite of the bread, his brow raising at the sweetness of it.

“My, it seems you have something to rival the sweetness of you, my love.” Apollo felt like washing his mouth out right about then. Gushiness was not something he was used to, at all. It didn’t feel right on his tongue.

Fleur giggled a little, the sound of it equivalent to that of a tiny songbird. That had been enough to leave both the baker and Apollo in a relaxed awe.

“Ah, you two lovers. You are perfect. Please, take a few for the road. You have made my entire week.”

Apollo was about to decline the offer, but the smile on Fleur’s lips had him keeping his mouth shut.

“We couldn’t…” Fleur started, sounding so sickeningly sweet, but alluring.

“Nonsense. Here. You two lovebirds have a safe journey. And don’t forget to return sometime!”

A small bag holding paper wrapped sweetbreads were handed to Apollo, to which was taken with a grateful smile and nod.

“Thank you. You seem to have please my lover greatly. I enjoy the smile its put on her face. Thank you very much.” 

The two left, walking towards the end of the street where they turned the corner. Fleur, once they were in the clear, began to pull the wrap from his head.

“Lover, huh? ‘Oh, my love.’ So sweet, you are.” Fleur teased once the wrap was off. He rubbed his eyes a bit, adjusting to the light.  
“Dearest? Beloved? Like you’re any less sickly sweet.”  
“It was believable, was it not?”  
“It was.”  
“Good then. Now, let's--”  
Apollo’s head snapped up, having heard someone coming their way. He quickly pulled Fleur to him, arms wrapping around his little body, keeping his face buried and hidden.   
A man came around the corner holding something.  
“Uh, hi, you dropped this back there.” Said the man, holding up a sack. It was his coin purse. His eyes were wide.  
“Oh, thank you so much for returning it. Most would have run off with something like this.”  
The man smiled.  
“Your sweet wife had everyone feeling so good, no one could just let anyone run off with your money.” The purse was handed over, and an exchange of nods.  
“Is she alright?” The man was talking about Fleur with his head buried in Apollo’s chest, hands gripping the fabric of his tunic.  
“Oh, yes she is. Her eyes were hurting, so she took off her wrap. She doesn’t like anyone to see the scarring.”  
The man gave him a silent ‘oh’ in understanding.  
“I see. I’m sorry for intruding. You two have a wonderful life together. Stay safe.”  
Apollo smiled and nodded as the man walked off. Once the sound of footsteps faded away into the normal ruckus of a town, Fleur pulled from the soldier's chest, their bodies still pressed together.  
“Nice save.”  
“Anything for you, beloved.”  
“Gross.”  
“Yep.”  
After making a quick decision, they came to conclude that they could not stay here. Too many people had come to notice Fleur. They didn’t want to get any suspicions spread, so they mounted and rode off, heading West once more. 

It was only an hour and a half of riding before they pulled off beside a small river. Just down a little way was a calm little pool of water where they could go wash up. It was perfect, as in the words of the Prince.

Fleur dismounted, stretching out enough to stand almost completely on his toes. Apollo had watched him from his peripheral vision as he unpacked one of the horses. The teen had relaxed and was proceeding to remove his shoes, tossing them aside so he could wriggle his toes in the grass and dirt. He seemed to have come to really enjoy doing that lately.

Fleur stepped off towards the water, leaning over to look into the gently flowing water for a minute before stepping a toe in. But that didn’t last long as he whipped his foot back from the water.

“It’s freezing!” He yelps, backing away from the water.

“Yeah. It comes straight from the mountains. You know, snow?”

“What the hell...no water should ever be this cold!” He exclaimed before going to help set up.

“Once, on a journey through the seas, a man got knocked overboard in a storm. I jumped in after him. That water was like ten thousand knives in my body. It was freezing cold. I probably would have turned to ice if they hadn’t thrown out a rope for us in time. By the time they got us back on board, my hand was just about frozen shut around the rope. I couldn’t remove it until my hand thawed out.”

The blonde had frozen where he was, just staring blankly as he listened.

“Oh...wow...i never knew water could get so cold.”

“The ocean is freezing in some parts. But not all.”

“So, like Ios...those waters are never cold. I could walk right in on the coldest of nights, and it would be like a warm bath.”

Apollo nodded. He worked on making up the tent, doing the same as he’d done before. Sticks, canvas, nails, fur.

Fleur wouldn’t complain. It stayed rather warm in there. Though, it wasn’t the most comfortable.

“Tell me another story, soldier boy. You seem like you’d have plenty of them, despite how young you are.”

The man smirked a bit as he pulls together some dry branches from nearby into a pile.  
“A story...hmm. Let’s see. Oh, I’ve got one. Since we’ll be very close to Patran Wolvanian territory pretty soon, this should be fitting. 

So, i was about fourteen when i became something of a soldier. They mostly kept me around as an errand boy and a weapon cleaner. I traveled with the army. 

We had come to Wolvane to try and set up relations. It was told that Wolvanians are formidable foes. They fight as a pack of wolves would, and would wear the furs and heads of dead great wolves. Hence, where the name of their nations name came from. The Azruleans wanted such allies. 

So here we came, unobstructed into their territory. We thought it foolish to leave it so open. Anyone could come and attack. They were defenseless. But we were very wrong. Very, very wrong.

We hadn’t known it for 2 days, though some of us had a strange feeling. But they had us surrounded, watching us. We never came across a single village or any sign of life at all in those two days. Just before we were about to turn back, we were attacked and tied. Not a single fatality, believe it or not, in all of that. 

So we were captured, all three hundred of us, tied and sitting like ducks on water. We could do nothing. Our general was taken first, then the advisors, then a few randoms. I was chosen too, as part of the last group of randoms. We were blindfolded and gagged, taken somewhere we could never trace back. It felt like it hadn’t taken forever. Then we were squeezed down into somewhere. 

When they took off the blindfolds, we found ourselves in a village. It was full of people so strange and unusual. Unlike any I’d seen before. They spoke many languages, ours being one of them, luckily. 

They were called Dalmats. Their skin was like painted horses, all patchy, ranging from pale and tan, to fair and dark. Their eyes were all sorts of colors, most of them mixed. Like yours, actually. And their hair, much like everything else, had streaks of white and grey in them. It’s possible that it was something they put in it, but i almost doubt it. 

The one thing i will never doubt though was that they were the most strangely beautiful people i have ever seen. Their leader was by far the most beautiful. He...or she. I'm still not very sure what they were, they were the most beautiful. They had such dark skin, and in contrast, very pale spots. Their hair was almost white, with few black hairs here and there. They reminded me greatly of a black paint pony. And their eyes, I’ll never forget, were hazel and blue. Very vibrant and intimidating.

Anyways, they kept us all in a line, and their leader walked by each one of us, looking only in our eyes. I, being a dumb fourteen-year-old, tried to act tough, despite how terrified i was. They could see it, and they stopped right in front of me. They told me i have very nice eyes. Then that I would be very powerful, and the love of my life would come to me in an unexpected turn of events.”

By now, Fleur had sat on the grass next to him, the fire having been started. The blonde was completely engrossed in the story.

“Did they ever come to you?”

“No.” He took a breath before continuing.

“As a fourteen-year-old, i believed them. Anyone so young would have thought about it more than they should have. Naivety is like that. 

So, they took through some of their traditions. Most of which i was really too young to enjoy, or even be around for. Then, they blindfolded us and took us back.

Everything would have been fine had the rest of the group stayed calm. But they hadn’t. A lot of us died, but so did a good portion of those Dalmats. It was really a shame. So that is why Azruleans steer clear of Wolvane. The last time one of us strayed too close, they were stripped, scalped, and sent to us in pieces on spears covered in blood.”

“Well, i wouldn’t go so far, surely, but i can see why they hate you guys so much. They could have been very friendly up until that point. Maybe they don’t trust anyone anymore. You guys ruined it for everyone.”

“Everyone but you. LAst i heard, relations with Wolvane and five of the Patran provinces had very strong alliances with each other. I’m positive yours is likely to be one, being the closest to Wolvane itself.”

“Then you really are going to be the luckiest of Azruleans. You’ll be the first come right to the border in…”

“Eight years.”

“Eight years...yep. Lucky you.”

They both chuckles, staring at each other for a while.

“Now, about that water…” Fleur started.

“You’re either going to get in and freeze, or you’re going to stink.”

A pout.

“What happens if i freeze…i’ll be long dead before you even realize it.”

“Wha--”

“You know i won’t get undressed in front of you. The doublet was one thing, this is an entirely other. No one sees me naked. No one.”

“Why, got something to hide?”

“No. I just don’t like it.”

↓↓↓↓

So it was settled. Fleur was off to get in first. The young male was so nervous about the temperature of the water. He didn’t want to come out as frozen as an icicle. It really didn’t help that he got cold very easily as well. By the time he’d stripped away the tunic, he was already shivering so greatly.

He tried once again with a toe in the water first. And it was whipped back, like a repeat of earlier.

“Ugh, why does it have to be so ridiculously cold...we should have just stayed in town.” He mumbles to himself.

He sighs and goes right on in, one whole foot first. But since it was getting dark out, he had misjudged where he stepped, going right off the shallow embankment and right into the deeper end. It was about waist height on him, but he had fallen, full body, into the water. When he rose, whipping his wet hair back as he let out a yelp.

He crossed his arms over his body, shivering so badly, it looked as though he would not be able to stay on his feet if it kept up. His teeth chattered, and the rest of his body tensed up, retracting to itself.

“God, why….Why why….” He groaned before dropping himself right back into the water, washing himself as best he could of the day and a half he’d done of riding. When done, he slowly got out, body too frozen to move any quicker. His clothes were grabbed, the small towel used to wipe down as much of him as possible before the tunic went back on. And with more slowed steps, he went back to where the fire was blazing.

Apollo had on sticks, some of the fish he’d bought back at the village, descaled and turned crispy by the flames. One was offered to Fleur, who took it with a shaking hand and slowly began to devour it.

The teens shaking had Apollo chuckling a bit, knowing he was more than likely frozen down to the bone. When his own fish stick was cleared of its meat, he tossed the remains to the fire. 

He reached to where he’d tossed the unpacked sacks, pulling from it some folded furs. And as to not disturb the other from his eating, Apollo placed the unfurled furs over the smaller shoulders, wrapping him up as best he could without obstructing his eating.

“Will you survive while i go get unstinky?” The brunette half-joked.

“I’ll make do. I’ll fight a bear with my fish stick.” The teen said, teeth still slightly chattering, but not as badly.

“You do that.”

Apollo then stood and made his way to where Fleur had gone to wash up. He was quick about it, not wanting to leave the prince alone and for the most part, unarmed. So he washed what was important, dried, dressed, then walked back.

By the time he returned, he was greeted with a peaceful scene of Fleur all wrapped in fur by the fire. His thin body was propped up by a large rock, head lulled over, eyes closed. He was all bundled up and warm looking, his face rather cute now that it wasn’t twisted with the constant sneer that he had in his waking hours. 

Sitting nearby, he sighed, just relaxing. It’d been a long day. He sat there easily, just watching the flames dance, lost deep in his own thoughts. 

What was to become of them? Would they succeed in reclaiming Akielos-Vere? 

Apollo knew that the number of men brought was large. Over ten thousand is what he last heard. This was the sort of quantity that could bring an unsuspecting country to its knees. He did not know much about how they had managed to get so close in the first place to even be able to do this. There had to be inner workings to make it happen. There were traitors in Akielos-Vere.

Then Apollo realized it. He was a traitor himself. He’d thought it before, just the night before. He had run from the fight, taking a prize piece with him. And now he would be helping to reclaim what was taken. 

Why? Why would he do so much for a country he knew nothing of? All he knew was that the country was once two, and had joined as one just 17 years before. Joined by two princes turned Kings because they were lovers. It was scandalous, the whole tale. It was widespread word of what happened, but some of it seemed rather exaggerated. 

He wondered how much of the truth Fleur knew? Then again, the teen was a know it all. He’d know every last detail. Not just because he was a smartass, but because his fathers were those princes-turned-kings.

Blue eyes glanced off to the bundled prince sleeping close by the fire. This child only knew of peace. No war. No tyrannies. No suffering. He’d been born to a world of luxury and grand gestures of alliances. And now, he was to be thrust onto the field, shining sword and armor, giving it all he’s got.   
He knew nothing. And Apollo could only pity him. It would be his own job to fill in the gaps for all the prince did not know. Military strategies, castle breaking. All something he knew well from years of experience. If his worn hands could only tell stories of the things he’d done.  
Instead, it was his dreams as he drifted off to sleep in front of the fire that threw him back into the hellfire of his memories of death and victory.


	9. Do It For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected interference in the journey to Hamar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update.  
> I've been on a writing roll with this lately, and it has kept me away from Pinpricked. Which is rather unfortunate.  
> But, he were are, Chapter 10!  
> Happy reading!

A yelp woke Apollo from his uncomfortable position against the log. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but by the look of the fire’s low glowing embers, it’d been for a while.

His head swiveled tiredly to look at Fleur, who he suddenly realized was shaking greatly in his sleep. He was still covered by the furs, so the shakes were quite unusual. It took a while before another sound was made by the small prince. He had released a breathy groan that sounded greatly pained.

The soldier didn't hesitate to move, sliding himself over the 3-foot distance between them, shaking the blonde.

“Fleur, hey. Hey, wake up. You’re dreaming.” He tried, speaking as soothingly he could, not wanting to further frighten him when he finally woke.

But it wasn't so easy. The boy, sweating rather profusely now, was writhing, his face distorted as if he were in an immense amount of pain.

Apollo shook him harder, figuring the other was deep in sleep, unending as the nightmares took him alive.

Fleur began to fight him, arms flailing and pushing, trying to escape him. He let out a cry, his body arching and twisting with desperation. The brunette did not know what to do since the other would not wake from his vivid nightmares. 

Almost a complete minute of struggling passed before eyes snapped open, heavy pants leaving the teen's lips. Normally vibrant and lively blue and hazel browns were now murky colors, eyelids open as wide as they could be. His small body racked with shakes, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

Apollo stared back down at him, eyes just as wide and ambivalent.

“Are you okay…” He asked, staring him indefinitely in the eyes. He didn’t know how to handle this kind of situation. 

Being a soldier, he’d seen plenty of men break down. Vivid night terrors overtaking men in the dark. Their terrified cries had shaken Apollo for a while, but it was something he’d come to be accustomed to.

But this?

This was different.

This was Fleur. Difficult, petty, sweet, independant, intelligent, daring, contradicting Fleur. The prince that had been thrust from a hand-fed life straight into the fire. Not once had he faltered since they began their journey. Not once had he shown an ounce of fear, only disgust. Apollo thought him to be head-strong and rather admired it in him.

And yet now, here he was. He looked like a child woken by thunder, thinking it to be a monster coming to get them. It pulled heavily on the soldier's heartstrings. He wanted to protect him. To guard his mind against the nightmares that had petrified him so.

Fleur’s struggled breathing turned to skips, then to convulsing sobs. 

The soldier, moved to pull him up, holding him close to himself. He felt terrible, being unable to do more to quell his fears.

Small hands, he could feel, had come to grip his shirt tightly at his back. Sobs were muffled by his chest, and shakes were held still by strong arms.

The position was moved so the teen was half on his lap, head still buried in his chest. Nothing had to be said between them. Apollo was willing to stay awake all night if he had to for the other. 

And though the quaking of his body and faint whimpers had faded into the quiet of the night, he remained awake. His large hand was rubbing at a clothed back soothingly, the other placed over blonde locks in a protective manner.

He refused himself sleep for hours before he could no longer.

⇓ ⇓ ⇓ ⇓

With morning came the chirping of early morning birds. The rushing of the river came loudly, and though was soothing all the same, had also woken the pair. 

Fleur was the first to rise, peeling himself away from the warm chest he spent the night crying into. He was off at the water's edge, splashing the freezing water over his face.

The teen stared down at the rippling reflection of himself in the running water. A blur of golden blonde and pale skin. 

He felt tired, and yet, somehow refreshed. He hadn’t realized how much the situation he’d been put into had been affecting him. But then again, who wouldn’t eventually be overcome by it? Only one that did not care if their family had been torn to shreds in a single afternoon.

Fleur loved his family with everything he had. And now he was miles upon miles away in lands he did not know. No knowledge of what has happened to neither his family nor his country. It was only a matter of time before the unknown would begin to gnaw at his brain. Seemed three days was the amount of time before it’d begin to get to him.

Noted.

He was just about to stand from where he was crouched, then he heard something off in the distance. Just on the other side of the river.

His eyes narrowed, trying to see what it could be. But it was short lived before he felt large hands on him dragging him away.

“Come on, I hear horses. We cannot be seen. We don’t know who they are.” came Apollo's voice, weary of the distant noises. 

This was all Fleur needed to begin using his own legs.

In the time he’d taken at the river’s side, Apollo had packed up their supplies and had the horses all ready to go. 

No time was wasted in mounting and riding off back in their destination's direction.

The sound of hooves was now only that of their own. A bit of calm came over them, feeling the threat slip from them.

“That had been too close.” The soldier spoke after a while, looking rather hard in the face as he stared straight ahead.

Fleur nodded slightly in agreement.

It had been far too close for any sort of comfort. They did not stop, only kept on riding until their horses could no longer take it and needed a rest.

⇓ ⇓ ⇓ ⇓

Apollo stretched his arms out, groaning a bit. His body was sore in strange places from the position he’d fallen asleep in. It hadn’t been uncomfortable but left him with a crick in his neck and sore spots on his back and ribs.

Fleur in the meantime, was fine, having slept on top of the other, being free to move as he had pleased. So now, he was moving around as if he'd slept on a comfortable cushion. There was no soreness as he stood there petting his horse, feeding it half of his apple that he was munching away at.

The view was rather peaceful, as most things were watching Fleur when he wasn’t being a moody teenager. Apollo wasn’t blind. He wouldn’t lie and say he didn't think he was attractive. Because by all means, he was. 

But that hadn’t been what caught his eye the second he saw the prince at the palace. 

No, it had been the graceful ways he moved. It was the gentle movement of elegant fingers upon any surface. The way he held his head, never looking so much as flayed, no matter of the situation. He was a child that would run right into the fire like he knew there would be water at the end of it. 

It was the decorum that he chose whether or not to follow as he pleased. Never anything he didn’t want. The dignity and decency he held for himself. He knew his body was a temple, his playing piece, so he was sure to always take care of it.

And Apollo’s favorite part about the other, though it was also the least favorite, was his intellect. The way that brain worked under those blonde locks was unlike any he’d ever encountered. He spent all of three days with the prince, and he knew that there was something...different working inside that teenage mind.  
He was not cut out like any other. 

In Apollo’s time with the army, he’d met many a scholar and some of the most intelligent people alive. Renowned intellectuals and philosophers and the like. But not a single one had ever come off quite like Fleur did. 

Fleur was intelligent, competent beyond every other mean. Apollo was sure he could have outplayed all of those men and women together at a game of chess but would let it drag out just for the fun of it. That’s the sort of person he was.

It had the soldier wondering just what sort of person his father was. Was the prince anything like the Veretian king? Were they even on the same level? Perhaps his mother?

He did not know. But perhaps in time, he would learn.

Deep in his thoughts, Apollo had not heard the hoofbeats at first. It had been Fleur's turn of the head that snapped him out of it. He whipped around towards the direction it was coming loudest from. And indeed, perhaps only a few miles from them in the clearing, there was a group of riders heading directly for them.

His stomach dropped.

“Fuck. Mount, now!” He yelled as he rushed and swung up onto his horse. 

Fleur was beside him in seconds, up in his saddle. With a kick of the heel, they were off at a gallop. And a slow one at that. Their horses were tired and bearing much weight on their backs.

Apollo took a look back, seeing that the group was closing in on them.

“Goddamnit. Into the trees! There! We’ll outrun them!” was all that was shouted before they were bolting for the treeline. 

By the time they reached it, the riders were within shooting range with their bows. A few arrows made their way for Apollo and his horse, luckily, none near Fleur.  
He pushed his horse harder, trying to get them into the trees so they could lose the attackers.

Right on their tail, the attackers were firing arrows. But Apollo had come to soon realize the arrows were only directed at him. These people knew who they were. No doubt about it.

He chanced a look back, catching a glimpse of sun-darkened skin and fine colors of navy blue.

He knew who this was, and was surprised. But knowing what to do now, he knew it would be risky, and yet he was willing to give it his chances. It would be for a greater good in the end.

Yanking the reins, his horse came to a sliding stop, to which he yelled to Fleur to stop. The arrows still came, and he narrowly avoided them as he turned the stallion around. Knowing what was coming, he unsheathed the sword at his side. Within seconds, a booming clash of metal on metal sounded through the tree canopy, disturbing the birds. 

Intenses hazel eyes were on him as the sword in a sun-kissed, rough hand drew blows on his. He remained on the defense, not wanting to cause harm.

“Kill him!” The man shouted, to which the bows were lifted. A twinge of fear was beginning to blossom in his stomach. If this was the end, he knew he lived doing the right thing.

‘Live well, beautiful Blanchefleur.’

 

The piercing pain never came. The clanging of sword exchange slumped to nothing.

He only had to slide his eyes slightly off a way to see why.

Fleur was in front of him, still on his horse. He could not see his face, but he knew he had a stern look upon it.

“Do not kill him...brother.”

Bows and sword were lowered.

“Fleur,” came Isocrates. “He is one of them. He took you, and is in no doubt turning you over to his king.”

“He is helping me reach my promised land. So I can retake what is rightfully ours.”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before the man swung his leg off from his horse and walked the distance to Fleur’s bay mare. Fleur did the same, turning only to end up in broad, muscled arms. He returned it, of course, being an embrace of brothers too long in missing from each other.

“I cannot believe you are alive…” lamented Fleur, his arms holding his brother tightly.

The uncertainty of whether or not he was all alone had vanquished. He held one of his brothers right there with him, warm and very much alive.

“I...I saw him carry you out from the walls. It was foolish...and probably considered cowardly, but I took some of our archers and pursued after you two...we were always just a step behind...and on one occasion, we did lose sight for a while. We luckily had come across a village that was talking greatly of a little blonde, blind beauty, and her enormous but handsome husband. I knew it had to have been you in disguise...with this brute.” Isocrates hadn’t hesitated to give the Azrulean a nasty glare at that moment.

“Why is it that you trust him. His barbarians took our lives, our kingdom from us like cowards. He had stolen you away. How could you trust him? I implore you, tell me, brother. Tell me what has brought you to this conclusion?” Iso looked down so worriedly at his baby brother, most likely worrying for the youngers mentality. 

“He stole me because he knew if I stayed, I truly would be taken to their king...or I would have been slain.”

“But how do you know this--”

“Because he was the one that was supposed to do it.”

“Wha--... Fleur have you lost yourself? You are headed directly for Azrule. He could be delivering you directly, and you are going willingly.”

Isocrates was now definitely giving him a look that screamed how crazy he was.

“My king currently resides in your palace as we speak. He sent soldiers to secure it, then he was to move right in and implement his ruling. I was to bring Fleur to the town of Stav in Patras, to deliver him. We are far past Stav.”

The look in Isocrates' eyes was tell-tale of him calling him a liar in his head.

“Fleur, you cannot trust him.”

“I already have. You and I are family, but I will not let you stop me. I have a goal I intend to achieve. And you are either with me, or you are not. That is your own choice. I have chosen my path, what is yours.”

“I cannot trust him.”

“Then do not. But I will. He has risked everything to get us this far. My loyalty to him will not fade. He has kept me alive at the cost of his own life. His life is mine. Ride with us, or go settle somewhere until I have brought us back our home.”

The man seemed to mull over the thoughts in his mind before concluding.

“Fine. Because we are family, I cannot leave you once more. We are at your side.”

“Wonderful. Don’t let me catch you trying to kill him. You will not like the antiphon.”

“Agreed then.”

“Well, let us get back on the trail. The longer we wait to do this, the longer our people have to suffer this tyranny.”

With that, Fleur turned and mounted his horse once more, riding off at a trot in front of the group.

Isocrates gave Apollo a look that said ‘you hurt him, it will be the last thing you do.’

Apollo gave him back a look of ‘try me’ before trotting off after Fleur.

The group was now moving at a decent pace, estimating to reach their destination within two more days.


	10. Ode of Apolotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip into the story of Apolotus, the Azrulean army Captain. Then a new threat emerges?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than many of the chapters. But I wanted a little bit of a cliffhanger before I got into the next bit of our story.

The rest of the day was spent in travel. Isocrates held Fleur’s attention in conversation about plans of what to do. Apollo could do nothing but listen to know, knowing the other man would not hear a single word from him.

Apollo was a trained soldier, knowing very well of tactics of war and overthrowing of kingdoms. That wouldn’t keep the attention of the Akielon man who was very intent on ignoring him. He may as well have just disappeared at this point.

A day and a night passed in this manner, and it was really starting to grate on him. But still, he said nothing. 

At least not until they made their camp for their final night before reaching Hamar. He’d had just about enough of the teen adult’s attitude towards him. He knew it was for good reason he acted in such a way, but it could not go on forever.

Iso had become impatient with him while he was making the fire.

“Oh move, you take forever.” He had said, pushing the soldier aside to start the fire himself.

This had set Apollo off. He shoved back.

“Fuck off. Seriously? You’re gonna be a petty little bitch about every damn thing?”

“I think I’m allowed to be. You’re a goddamn barbarian. Your people stole everything from us. Now I bet you’re only here because you want a piece of my brother.”

“ _My people?_ ” He ignored the part about Fleur, deciding to not get into that subject right now.

“Yeah, you fucking heard me, you shit-ass Azrulean. Pussy motherfuckers could have never taken us in a fair fight.”

That had been the last straw. Both were on the ground, tumbling around, throwing punches and grabbing roughly. It was a tumble of arms and legs, bared teeth and grunts. Isocrates was strong, and Apollo would be the first to admit it. A formidable foe to most. But not for him.

He flipped him, slamming his head into the dirt.

“ _Don’t talk about us like we’re all the same. We’re not._ ” He had growled. “Not all of us fight like a petty bitch willing to cheat. Some of us have actual strength and are willing to fight.”

Isocrates struggled, trying to budge from the position he was forced into, but found himself unable to move from it.

“Really? Because that’s not...what I see now...fucking liar...cheater…” the teen groaned  
Apollo pushed his head further into the dirt.

“No, what you see is experience. Something of which you still lack. Keep it straight. I am not a cheater, and I would never lie.”

They remained in the position for a while, that is, until Fleur had come up, looking rather nonchalant about it.

“If you two are done being children play fighting in the courtyard, I’d like to get a fire started. It’s getting cold and I’m starving.” His arms crossed, looking expectantly at the two on the ground.

Apollo let off after a second, standing. He lent a hand to the other male, who was getting up. His hand was swatted away.

Isocrates stood, dusting himself briefly before stomping off elsewhere. Apollo only barely spared him a side glance.

“Give him a while...he’s lost his closest friend and family…It seems at the moment...each other is all we have. He said he hasn’t heard anything of our parents...or Damocles.” Fleur said, his arms crossing and himself at his sides.

The younger had been handling most of this rather well, but the look on his face was a dead give away at how much it was wearing him down. He could hardly hide it away on his face, the wear and tear of leaving home in such a hurry, never knowing what was going on as he fled.

“I know...but he needs to get it through his skull that I…”

“Am not here to get into my pants?” Fleur finished, side-glancing at him. “That would be rather difficult I would think, considering I am not wearing pants.”

Apollo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“That I am not here to hurt you. I...I feel bad for what my men...my own ruler has done. I am not new to destroying kingdoms to make it our own. But they...they are normally so corrupt. So downright dirty, it was always better off destroyed. At least that’s what I believed. I do not know whether or not to believe that now.”

“Now I feel I have been drinking from a cauldron of lies instead of a cup of gold. I feel foolish. There is no honor in what has been done. And I feel as if only I can help to undo this.”  
“I want to look Decimus in the eyes. I want him to answer me, the atrocities we have truly committed in these past 6 years. I want to hear directly from the soldier turned king, the man that trained me himself. To hear of the blood-filled raids and castle-takings, they were all just that. Atrocities...just because he wanted them.”

Apollo’s breathing was uneven just the slightest, the pain behind his words not hidden in the least. Fleur was able to tell just how much this affected the man. It would have hurt anyone, knowing your mentor was sending you off on killing-sprees of innocent people that he told you lies about.

 _‘He is...honourable.’_ Fleur thought. 

“You will get your chance.” The young prince spoke. “I will bring it to us. Shred me to the bone, I will get us there.” The boy had such great confidence, such valor in his words. Like he knew he would win, even before the battle began.

Apollo saw it foolish, and childish. But what more could he do than to hope he would be right. That he would lead them to victory.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

The camp was set and all were sitting around the fire, eating a feast of caught fish. Isocrates, in his frustration, had walked far enough to discover a river. So with his skills from having worked on a fishing dock, as well in the distant rivers of Northern Vere, he caught them a bountiful amount of fish.

Crispy morsels were passed around, the only one to decline was Apollo, who said he wasn’t hungry. It earned him a glance from Fleur.

The three archers were good men and women. The one man, named Albinet, was a relatively new man to the palace guard. He was only about nineteen and was quite stiff. But that was normal among newbies. He was rather good in rapid firing and deadshots while riding.

The two women, Gisa and Korinna, were far more experienced and lax with their positions. 

Gisa had been with the guard for about eight years now and was an excellent quick shooter. She was somewhere in her late twenties, beautiful with her dark curls and tanned skin. Her personality was loud, charming, like a rapid river over rocks.

Korinna, being the eldest of the group, was somewhere in her mid to late thirties. She had been a veretian archer before the alliance was made, serving on the guard there. She was also the one keep a close eye on Fleur while he learned the ropes of archery. Her specialty was in long distance sniping. 

Isocrates had pulled together a good group on the short time he had in order to keep up with Apollo and Fleur. They would be a great addition to getting them back their home. 

The archers were having a good ol’ time, the women teasing their teen counterpart, Isocrates joining in a bit. The atmosphere was lighthearted, and for once, relaxed. 

Fleur for once felt like he could let down just a little bit. It was more likely in knowing his brother was alive and here with him. But they also had three of the finest Akielon-Veretian soldiers on guard with them. And then there was Apollo.

Apollo…

Fleur had not yet gotten to see the man’s full strength. He assumed he would be very powerful, considering the fact that he had been a captain. And earlier, in the skirmish between he and Isocrates.

Isocrates, like Damocles, was an undefeated wrestler back home. Unless it came between those two specifically, which then Damocles would always claim victor. 

 

Iso was massive, and even so, was still growing. He was not yet at his peak of strength but was still a foreboding opponent. He’d taken on two men once in a weaponless fight and came out with nothing but a small bruise on his shoulder and bragging rights. And the bruise had been from him slamming one of the men, and not inflicted.

But Apollo. The soldier had taken Isocrates down with such ease. Such precision, Isocrates had been unable to move from the ground he’d been slammed into. The amount of sheer strength had to have been so great to keep a stallion like Iso down.

It made Fleur wonder if even Damocles was any match for the soldier. That would have to be something he’d have to ask of them down the road.

The young prince glanced over to Apollo, seeing that he was just watching the rest of them with an expressionless face. He had yet to say a word since declining food. It worried Fleur a bit. 

“You should eat.” Fleur spoke, looking directly at the man.

Apollo glanced over, not looking much different than before.

“Not hungry…”

“Bullshit you’re not. You haven’t eaten at all today. You’ll hurt yourself if you keep up being a stubborn ass.”

Apollo went back to staring at the fire, eyelids lowered a bit. He looked depressed.

Fleur was having none of it and grabbed one of the sticks with a fish on it. He scooted close to the soldier and held the fish up to the other.

“Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

Apollo still did not look at him, nor budged.

“Will you at least look at me...What’s wrong with you?” The prince asked, his brows furrowed, lips downturned in concern.

A second passed before blue eyes were on him again.

“Please talk to me...I don’t know what’s wrong, so I can’t help you. I want to.”

Eyes lowered before rising a few seconds later.

“I’m just...thinking. Planning. We have a lot we need to do. And... at the end of this, it will be me to slay the man that took me in...he practically raised me.” He swallowed hard, face twisting a bit.

Fleur frowned. “Tell me...about him...about growing up. I want to know.”

Apollo seemed to hesitate but began with a deep inhale.

“When my parents died... I was only ten. I had no one to turn to. I lived on the streets, stealing what I could to survive. When he found me, I was bleeding out in an alleyway. A shopkeeper had chased me down after catching me stealing, stabbed me before taking back what meager bit I took.”

“Decimus was just a captain then. He’d come back from war, and should have just walked on past. Shouldn’t have spared me a glance. But he did. He came and took me to a doctor. Had me patched up. Took care of me himself until i was well again. But he could not keep me. At least not when he was called to serve again.”

“That is how i found my other family. A husband and wife took me in, had me out in the fields, working myself to the bone until dusk. Then come out at dawn, fresh and new to start it again. They were my family until Decimus returned.”

“He would teach me all he knew in the time we had together. Then he would leave again. When I turned fourteen though, he finally asked me if I’d like to go with him. I did. I left for that year to go with him. I came back hardened. I worked harder, knowing in the end what i wanted to do.”

“It was an almost common knowledge that Decimus would be named king when the king of the time passed. I wanted to be his right-hand man when that time came. I wanted to be at his side, fighting, serving. I wanted to repay him by being his best soldier. I wanted him...to be proud of me.”

“I worked myself harder, grew myself out into a hefty man. One he would want under him. And when the time came, he took me.”

“I was eighteen when our former king passed, and Decimus was named new ruler of Azrule. I was the first he recruited at his side. The next year, he made me captain. I never questioned him. I did what i was told, took no pleasures for myself. I only served.”

“I...was a fool.”

Fleur, without thinking twice about it, got up onto his knees, turning to the other. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around the man. He was too small to even get all the way around him, but that didn’t stop him from holding him tightly.

“No...you’re not. He was the fool for taking advantage of you. For creating you. Now he has to face you, in all of your glory and power. And he will either regret it...or he will be proud. He has created a man so powerful, named after a god, he may as well be one.”

“But whatever it is he feels...i will still be there with you. You won’t be alone. Whatever may come.”

A large hand came to rest on Fleur’s back, a return of his embrace. A large, warm head came to rest on his shoulder.

“Fleur...you may be a viper with a devilish tongue...but you always seem to know just how to…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence for Fleur to know what he would have, could have said.

The camp had quieted in light of the story of Apollo’s past. But it didn’t last long.

Eventually, everyone went and turned in for the night. Isocrates had set up his bed as close as he could have to Fleur’s, not wanting to let him from his grabbing distance if need be.

Apollo had put distance between himself and the rest of them by setting himself up on the other side of the fire. He knew how Isocrates still felt weary around him. So the distance was mostly for him.

Sleep came quickly for most. The last awake was likely Fleur, who was sitting up, staring across the way at Apollo’s large form laying on some of the furs.

He knew his thoughts were bothering him, and Fleur hated that he was distancing between them because of Isocrates. This was hardly the time to be distant. But there was nothing he could do. Both of these men were greatly stubborn. They would just have to work it out on their own.

The young prince sighed quietly before moving to settle down into the pack that Iso had set up for him. There was a fold of furs there as well, likely from Apollo. The teen was grateful and had spread it over himself as he got comfortable. 

Sleep was slow to take him, but the smell of something familiar helped to eventually lull him.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Apollo had been in a very light sleep. He heard it first.

The gentle rustle of leaves. 

He thought perhaps there was a bit of wind picking up. So he ignored it.

Then it happened.

A muffled scream from across the way drew him from his sleep and into an upright position. He didn’t get to sit up too far, however, as he came eye to point with a sword. It only took a quick glance to see that they were surrounded.

The men were dressed in blue subligaculum, black cingulum tightened at their waists with a large gold sun painted at its middle. They wore visored and crested helmets, very similar to that of the one Apollo had before. Their right shoulders were covered by a bronze metal piece with a high shoulder plate. The greeves too were of bronze. Both with the sun symbol hammered into them.

They were Azruleans.

“ _Apolotus. Traitor to the crown, and to your own peoples. Stand down and sacrifice yourself. You should be ashamed of your defiance. For helping these dirty snakes to escape.”_ spoke the soldier with his sword in Apollo’s face, speaking in Azrulean.

“ _I will not. They are innocent, as were many of those we have cut down in the past. Decimus seeks to only rule. He does not care._ ”

“ _You speak of your mentor like this? He gave you everything, and this is how you repay him? By defying him and acting on treason. What have these disgusting barbarians done to you._ ”

“ _They have done nothing. As they never have. This wrong what we are doing, brother. We slaughter with no meaning. Only to obtain lands we do not need. We are saving no one._ ”

They remained quiet. Apollo was able to take another glance at the camp. 

One of the soldiers held Fleur tightly to himself, hand over his mouth. It really hadn’t taken much to restrain him. For the archers, however, they’d been tied up and left tied like hogs on the ground. 

And then there was Isocrates. By the looks of things, in that time, he had given three men absolute hell. Two of them held him at his arms, another with his sword at the man’s throat.

“ _You will be relieved of your duty, and your life, Apolotus. I am sorry it has come to this. You had come in so promising. So strong. And yet, here you are, turned around by these monstrous people. I had hoped I would not have lived long enough to have to see Sentritus the Defiant take over a man. Goodbye, tainted friend._ ”

The sword rose. Muffled screams could be heard from Fleur.

But it did not fall upon him, as he had expected. Instead, it landed in the dirt with a thud. The screams went silent.

Apollo looked up, eyes wide at the display. The soldier that was a mere second away from slaying him had a spear through his bare chest. He stood there, body shaking and convulsing before falling to the side.

The other men began to fly off the handle.

“Kill the rest of them! Now!” One of the soldiers yelled. But no blows ever came upon the rest of them. Only the whistling of arrows through the air before they pierced the armed men. The shots had been so precise, it killed each of the remaining men within a minute of hitting.

As soon as Isocrates was freed, he jumped over the bodies and pulled Fleur to himself, shielding him from any possible attack with his own body.

No one knew what was going on.

“What is…” Iso began, but he did not finish before a shadow began to emerge before them from the trees.

The moon was bright that night, giving the figure an awry appearance. It walked like a human, with long legs and arms, upright. But there were what appeared to be the ears of a dog or wolf on top of what could have been the head. Glinting white teeth and iridescent eyes practically glowed in the dark.

The figure stopped. But then more of them began to appear out of the shadows. Dozens of them.

“You must be the Prince of Hamar.” Came a thickly accented voice from the first figure to emerge.


	11. Four Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alliance to be made, feelings to be burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fleur is a little perv. Kinda. He's at that age >.>
> 
> So I wrote a lot. I wasn't sure when to stop. Cuz honestly, I could've kept writing.

Everything stood still.

Not even a rustle of leaves as an actual breeze came over the trees.

It was as if this figure had stopped all sounds of fauna and flora with a few simple words.

“I am.” Fleur eventually spoke, breaking the spell of silence.

“May I inquire...who are our saviors.”

The figure began to move once more, coming towards them. Isocrates, took a step back with Fleur, watching intently with sharp eyes. 

The figure eventually came into the low light of the embers of the fire. White fur covered a decent amount of the tall body. Over their shoulders, in some pieces of the midriff chest piece, around their hips and lower waist. And of course, the hood made of a dead wolves head, skull intact.

Long strands of strangely colored hair lay over the furs of their shoulders. If one was seeing right, it looked as if it were black and white hairs mixed together in a salt-and-pepper sort of look. 

Their skin was by the strangest part. It was not just one single color. It was patches of pale skin, and patches of very dark skin. In this sort of light, it could’ve just been a trick of the eye, and it was simply painted.

The look in Apollo’s eyes said otherwise.

“Your brothers in blood and ancestry.” The wolf head was lifted by one roughened, multicolored hand, letting it fall and hang on their back.

What was revealed was unlike anything any of them, except one, had ever seen before. A beautiful, strong face. Dark patches looking almost like that of a mask around their eyes, and contouring their face. The gender was indeterminate, but it did not stop anyone from staring in awe. 

The person's hair, indeed, was the stark contrasts of black and white strands. Peppery and so exotic with its strangely styled cut. Short in the back, with a long lock here and there, and very long locks in the front. They had rounded cut bangs that only just allowed a view of their mask-like eyes.

Whoever they were, they were...stunning.

“I am Vien. Prince of the Dalmat tribe. We’ve been tracking you for some miles now. We got word of an overthrowing in Akielos-Vere days ago. And that the youngest prince fled. We figured you would come to Hamar.”

The Dalmat prince turned to look at Fleur, a smile on their full lips. 

“But what I hadn’t expected...was for you to bring one of these barbarians with you. Did he tell you of how his people single-handedly destroyed a good portion of our outward alliances and our people.” Vien nodded their head towards Apollo, who was slowly being surrounded by other Dalmats.

“He did...but he was still just a boy when it happened. You have no qualms with him specifically.” Fleur argued, eyes narrow.

“You stick your neck out for him?”

“I do.”

Vien seemed to consider this for a second before nodding, bowed head turning towards Apollo.

“The young prince speaks for you. You’ll live to see another day then, Azrulean bastard. Consider yourself on a short leash, however.”

“He is mine to consider. Now, what is it you want.” Fleur interrupts, receiving bewildered looks for his tone from both his brother, as well as the archers, who were still on the ground.

“We have come to get you. Chieftain would like to strike a war alliance with you. And the Feltian’s would like you to join them in company for the same reason. The Feltian’s have also offered to deliver you to Hamar after.”

Isocrates seemed to have tensed at this. “Do we have a choice in this matter?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

“The Prince of Hamar does. Whatever he chooses will be what you all will do.”

The air grew tense. This was on Fleur. Only he could get them out of this. Isocrates obviously did not want to do this, untrusting of anyone they came across. The archers only did what their princes wanted them to do. And Apollo? He was shit out of luck regardless.

“Very well. Take us. Tomorrow, you will turn us to the Feltians. But who are they? I have only ever heard of them, as many have. It was thought they were only a myth. A legend that lived in the deep forests.”

“They are very real. They roam the furthest of the territories, from the deep forests to the plains. Deer folk as we call them.” Vien said with a little smirk.

Fleur seemed to think on this for a bit.

“Alright, take us already. It is late. I wish to talk to your Chieftain immediately.”

“Late? The night has only just begun.” Vien laughed, some of the others doing so as well from their places in the dark.

“And tonight is the night of the wolf. You are in for a treat. Come! Let us bring our new friends!” Cheers and then howling surrounded them.

They were blindfolded and walked. Fleur was led personally by Vien, the two talking as they went, no matter of the blindfold. The archers had been untied, stood, blinded and walked by a few other Dalmats. Two men each were flanking Apollo and Isocrates, holding them tightly to keep them from tripping up.

It felt forever as they walked. Then at some point, they were squeezed through some areas, and down into strange holes. Apollo and Isocrates got the shit end of coming through the holes because no one was going to be able to catch such large men. They fell to the stone below and were forced to their feet after. Iso was becoming very irritated near the ned. Apollo merely took it as it came.

After an eternity of squeezing through holes and back through some thickets, their blindfolds were removed. What they saw could only be described by words that seemed too simple.

Incredible.

They were inside of a massive cavern, slits of open rock overhead allowed in the light of the bright moon. There were was looked like homes carved into the walls, their fronts made off sort of strange material, and doors that were merely cloth hung over the openings.

There was a large basin of water off to their right, the torchlight not being enough to see if it was murky or not.

A massive pile of wood was ahead of them, a group of Dalmats standing around it already, looking at them almost expectantly.

Vien brought Fleur over, stopping just before the pile.

Vien began to speak in a language none of them knew, but it sounded like it was something along the lines of, 

_“Brothers and sisters! I have returned, bringing our brother in ancestry. The prince of Hamar, Blanchefleur.”_

People began to gather by the dozens. And by the time almost all had gathered, there had to have been nearly five hundred of them. Many of them, if not most of them, were men, or something that looked akin to men. Their tribe was a strange one, that much was sure.

All of the men and women had the patchy, mismatched skin, ranging in many shades of brown and pale. Their patterns were all incredibly unique and beautiful.

Vien was passed a torch by one of the folk. He held it high, the flame lighting the only darkened area. Then he tossed it to the pile of wood. The wood had to have been covered in something, because almost immediately, it all burst into flames.

He yelled some words again, then all began to howl. The intensity of five hundred people howling into a enclosed area was quite overwhelming to ones who were not used to it. It rather startled their guests, but they took no notice.

Vien turned to face the guests, a great smile on his face.

“Come, we will dress you appropriately for the night, then we will bring you to lounge and feast with us.”

Nothing more was said as the group was led away to some of the little carved homes. Clothing was brought to them, garments of leather, fur, and silver. Then they were left to dress. Fleur got his own space to change, the two women archers had theirs, and the young male archer, Apollo, and Isocrates shared one.

The last group was obviously not happy about being forced together, but there was nothing they could do but change quickly.

Once dressed, they found that the clothing was rather comfortable, and fit decently well. 

It was a parka made of a thin buckskin, fur line lining the neckline, hemming the sleeves and bottom. The pants were of buckskin as well, dyed to shades of blues and reds.

Isocrates and Apollo were cringing still, however. Isocrates preferred the simple dress of a chiton, or of the normal clothing he’d been wearing in the first place. The fur on this garment bothered him greatly. Apollo just didn’t like it. He felt strange. The archer boy said he rather liked it. To which both men said to shut up.

They exited, Isocrates fussing over his sleeve. Apollo stopped dead as he was exiting, trapping the archer boy inside still by his massive body.

“Hey why’d you stop, you giant brute. Keep moving!” Apollo did nothing of the sort.

His eyes were caught on a figure ahead, standing around the fire with some of the other villagers. 

Long, beautiful blonde hair was free of any braids and ties, allowed to rest freely at the back and shoulder. Graceful pale skin was hidden under white buckskin and fur. 

The style of parka was more feminine, shaping with the natural curves of his body. The sides were tied by a string down to the hip, then it was open, allowing the rest of his panted legs to be free to move. The strips of fabric left in front and back of the parka were both long, the front stopping at his knees, the back just before it touched the ground. He had tall fur boots on that came up to just over his knee, likely to keep him warm. 

He looked...very good.

He gulped before shaking his head and began to move again, leaving the archer boy, who'd been pushing at his back for him to move, to fall to the ground.

“Ugh! Idiot!” The boy yelled at him. Apollo ignored him.

Isocrates had taken his place at Fleur’s side, and Apollo opted to stay a few feet behind him. From there, he saw the other wore a strange earring made of the same material as the houses, but in a different shade.

What was that?

Chopped, uncooked meats were brought in baskets, set on large flat stones near the fire, sticks laid out as well. Other dishes of food were also set out nearby. 

No one moved to begin eating yet. Likely because their prince was not yet here.

“Are you sure about all of this Fleur...they said they’ll let us go. We can make the journey on our own.” Apollo could hear Isocrates discussing with Fleur.

The blonde did not move or make any sign that the statement had affected him. “I am.”

“Why.”

“This is an alliance we will need, and eventually, I myself will need in the future. This is good.”

“Okay, but the...Feltians? Why. And why would they need to take us there? That doesn’t make any sense. It sounds fishy.”

“Vien said that beyond these trees, and on the rest of the way are plains. Hundreds of miles of it. The Feltian’s know these plains well...and the fact that they want to deliver us, they must know something about the plains that we do not. We are better off with them taking us.”

“Or it’s a trap.”

“Everything to you right now is a trap. Just relax a bit for once.”

Isocrates made a noise of disapproval, but he did not get to say much more before howling began to start up around them. 

Heads turned toward a figure in the dark coming towards them. The firelight eventually came to light up the very shapely figure of a familiar face. 

Vien was dressed similarly to Fleur, only he did not wear pants. His hips and legs were completely bare down to the knee, which he wore knee-high fur boots. His parka did not have sleeves, and instead was hemmed with fur at the shoulders, revealing his very toned arms.

A diamond shape was cut from the belly of the parka, giving a good glimpse of lean abs and smooth skin all the way down to the tip of the diamond. Dangerously close to some unmentionables.

The wolf head hood was replaced with that of a massive skull, the sharp teeth of the animal glinting in the fire. It was the head of what would have been a ghastly sized wolf that sat upon his head. The eye sockets were filled with that strange rock, and some of the missing teeth were replaced by shaped pieces of the same rock.

Vien came to a stop before the fire, looking around to his people.

He shouted to them in his native tongue, making something a speech before ending it with a lone howl. The rest did the same after he finished.

“Let us feast!” He yells in a language the guests knew.

People disbursed, milling about to get food and beginning to talk. Vien came to the weary group headed by Fleur.

“Come, I have us arranged seats.”

He turned, walking away, expecting them to follow. They did, walking around to the other side of the massive fire to were there massive flat stones creating something of a dais. Upon it were a great many of furs and pillows arranged comfortably for lounging. 

“Fleur, Isocrates, princes of Akielos-Vere, make yourselves comfortable.”

Vien showed a spot for the archers but left Apollo from it. The Azrulean blinked. Great. He was just going to sit on pure stone and wallow in pity all night.

But it wasn't like that. Vien stepped onto the dais and got himself situated on the furs before signaling for Apollo to come. He complied, kneeling before the Dalmat prince in respect.

“We do not favor Azruleans, as you know very well. But it will be tolerated for the sake of the Prince of Hamar. You may go sit beside him.”

Apollo said nothing, merely nodding and doing as he was told. He stepped on the dais and took a seat on Fleur’s right side, just at the edge of the platform. Isocrates took up his brother’s left side and was beside the Dalmat prince. 

Isocrates was actually facing the latter and was taking him up in conversation, which was a bit odd for him. He had been the one trying to convince Fleur they should leave.

Apollo looked to Fleur after sitting, the other looking back to him.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks.

“You know I am.”

“Adventurous. New places, people, customs. Of course you are.” He chuckled a bit before looking at the fire. The other villagers by now were beginning to take their seats around the massive fire, food in hand, eating and talking to their heart's content.

Despite being very close to being unwelcomed, Apollo was enjoying it as well. The atmosphere was familiar to the last time he’d visited the Dalmats, nearly a decade ago. It was warm, homely. No hatred or tense interactions. Just love.

Some women wandered over with baskets of fruit and freshly cooked meats. They dispersed to each of those sitting on the dais, setting the baskets beside them so they can pick at it as they pleased.

“If you would like, they will feed you as well. It would be their greatest pleasure.” Vien spoke. He waved away his own woman, however, likely preferring to feed himself.

Fleur did the same. Apollo and Isocrates however, though hesitant, allowed the women to do so. Apollo only did it because Fleur said he should. For docility purposes. And to keep that nice beard he was growing in clean. 

Isocrates, being a prince, and liking the attention of a woman, had agreed for those exact reasons. 

The women were sensual in their feeding tactics, looking directly into the eyes of the men as they took bites of the offered food. 

Apollo could feel Fleur’s eyes on him, watching each bite, waiting for the next. The gaze never left, even when he saw a pale hand pick meat from the other's basket to be eaten.

He glanced a little further, just past Fleur, to see Isocrates being practically groped by his woman, her hand sliding up and down his chest while he chewed. However, Isocrates wasn’t staring at the woman, despite their close proximity. Instead, his eyes were to his left, staring back at the Dalmat prince.

It seemed these feeding displays attracted attention from neighbors. Was it suppose to be sexual?

As if on cue, the woman feeding him was moving closer to him, straddling his lap, offering him another piece of meat. He ate it, but he just wasn’t into it. He almost felt like he was losing appetite.

It was Fleur who shooed the woman, seeing that Apollo was growing uncomfortable. The prince moved close to him.

“No interest in women?” He asked, a curious look in his eyes.

“I...No, that’s not it.”

“Unable to perform?”

“What? No. Fleur. Please.”

“Just asking. I’m sure you’re a very capable lover. You’re rather large, or so it felt.”

Apollo snapped his neck looking at the teen beside him.

“Um, what.”

“That night, I kinda fell asleep on you. It’s not like you have armor there, so I was just kinda laying on it I think. It was...wow.”

Apollo shook his head.

“Okay...yeah um...just erase that from your mind, please. I’d rather we didn’t.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I hear people rather like it like that.”

Apollo drug a hand over his face. _”Fleur.”_

Of course, the blonde had a smug look on his face. “I might’ve felt it too--”

“ _What.”_

The teen was now laughing at Apollo’s bewildered expression. Apollo figured now that the other was kidding about the last part. But that didn’t stop him from blushing.

“I’ve never seen a man get so flustered having to talk about his cock. You certainly are a silly one.” Fleur chuckled.

_”Why are you like this.”_

“I like making men uncomfortable.”

Apollo just laid back on the furs and pillows, just trying to get the conversation to drop.

It wasn’t long before a shift could be heard in surrounding conversation. The villagers were beginning to get a bit rowdy. He only sat up when he saw the Dalmat prince rising.

He watched the prince step from the dais and began speaking. A few men stood from where they sat, holding up a fist. They were called around the fire, bowing their heads to their prince.

The prince picked two of the men, the rest went and sat off to the side. He looked over the two opponents as they got into fighting position, a dagger in each of their hands. And with a single shout, the two lunged at each other, fighting eagerly. 

They fought like animals. Quick, brutal, raw.

By the time one was down, they both were cut up and bleeding. No death, just exhaustion. They were removed to get patched up.

This went on, each time with different weapons. It was quite a show that had all three on the dais enthralled in it. It was almost like the Akielon games they’d come so accustomed to on occasion. Only this was fighting one another with real weapons. Real danger with every swing and heave of the arm.

Finally, no one was left, only the prince was left. He turned to the dais, looking over them.

“How about one of you. Take me in a display. Nothing but our fists and wits.”

Fleur glanced to Apollo, but the soldier hadn’t made any inclination of wanting to fight. 

Both heard rustling beside them, causing them to turn and look, seeing Isocrates standing and stepping off the dais. He stepped forward.

“I will. How will this work.”

“We go until one of us drops, or are rendered unable.”

Isocrates nodded.

“You are Akielon. Do you fight in the nude?”

“Only when the opponent agrees to do so as well.” Iso replied, giving the other an interested smirk and raise of the brow.

“Hm...tempting. Perhaps at another date.”

All eyes were on the two. They began to circle, needing no signal to begin. Isocrates realized that in this light, he could see the other males eye color. Like his skin, it was mixed. One eye was hazel, the other a deep green. It almost reminded him of Fleur’s eyes.

These were nothing like his little brother's, however. His may have been piercing and venomous. But these were ravenous. Wild. Untamed. He looked like a wolf on the hunt.

He was the prey.

Vien charged, Iso made to block. There was no impact.

Isocrates only got a glimpse of what happened. The other male was flying over him, making hardly making a sound as he landed on the stone just behind him. The force from a heavy kick on his back sent him flailing a bit forward, desperate to not fall.

The man turned to look at the Dalmat prince, giving a look of surprise.

“What the hell was that…?”

“Never seen a flip before?”

“Uh, no.”

“Pity. Well now you know. Let’s see how you do.”

He charged again, still catching the teen in surprise again as he flipped over him, using the broad shoulders to launch himself over. He used his grip and momentum to pull the large male over him. With a loud thud, Isocrates was on the ground.

“What the…”

Vien moved to crouch mere inches from the other’s head.

“You’re making this too easy. I expected more.”

“You want more? I’ll give you more.”

With a swift move, large hands gripped the other's waist and hauled him over with one heavy heave, landing the other just onto himself.

They were now scrambling, wrestling each other on the stone. 

Isocrates had a grip on the males arms and the middle of his body. The two were opposite of each other, so the back of Vien’s head was against Iso’s abs.

He struggled to free his arms, but it was futile. The Akielon's arms were too strong to break the hold. So he used his next option.

The last thing Isocrates had expected was to be lifted off his feet while in this position. He weighed a good couple hundred pounds, all muscle. And yet, there he was, feet dangling off the ground, the only thing holding him being the Dalmat prince he was holding onto.

Next thing he knew, he was slammed on the ground once more, face buried into the back that had once been under him. His arms slipped, breaking because of the air being forced out of him from being thrown.

Vien stood, using the complete strength of his legs to do so.

“...Damn...those...are some hellish legs.”

“Strong enough to crush a man’s skull like a melon.” The Dalmat said down to him with a smirk. A patchy hand was lent down, offering help.

The Akielon prince accepted it, coming back up to his feet.

“You are certainly the most challenge I’ve had in awhile. We should do this again when you’re a little more familiar with the style. Maybe you’ll stand a chance.”

“Once I understand, there won’t be a chance for you.”

“I look forward to it.”

The two were staring directly into each other's eyes, their bodies close still from Isocrates standing up. They were almost chest to chest.

Then they were parting, heading back for the dais. Vien however, was pulled away by some of the wolf folk, talking to them before he could return.

Fleur turned to Iso when sat down, giving him an expectant look.

“Sooo….you two gonna fuck tonight?” Fleur asked, brows high.

“What? No. Why is that even on your mind.” Iso gave him an almost over dramatic look.

“Oh please. You two were making lover’s eyes at each other back there. I have seen far too many people do that, then end up hours later in a room fucking away. This is your chance. He’s into you. I can see it.”

Iso gave Fleur an unamused look.

“We’re not going to fuck. So get your mind out of it. If you’re so desperate to get your sexuality going, go screw your soldier boy. He gives you those eyes when you’re not looking. I know he’s just dying to give it to you.”

“Oh, so does that mean you approve?” Fleur teased, batting his eyelashes.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. But I can’t stop you.”

“Wonderful. Do you hear that dearest? You can use that giant cock of yours to split me in half in a foreign land.”

Iso narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll split him two if I find he’s been touching you.”

“Oh brother, like you said, you can’t stop me. He only touches me if I want him to.”

Apollo tried to stay out of it. Fleur was definitely teasing his brother. Something he seemed to like to do. But those looks he was getting from Iso were...very real.

Eventually, Fleur let off and sat back in his spot.

“You like getting him all fired up, don’t you.”

“Of course. It’s all part of being siblings. Maybe he’ll take it out on something. He’s been too high-strung this whole time. I’d rather it that he go do something to take his mind off it. Blow off that steam.”

“So you do want him to fuck the Dalmat prince.”

“If not him, then someone here.”

“Has he ever even…”

“Don’t know. He’s not so open about it like our other brother, Damocles. Damis has been fucking for quite some time now. Iso...i’m not so sure. He comes off so stiff, it’s hard to determine.

“Hm. Well, I guess we’ll find out won’t we.” Fleur knew what he meant by that.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Hours of dancing, feasting and howling passed. Eventually, the crowd died down, splitting off to go to their homes.

Vien returned to the two princes and the soldier, a smile on his face.

“Perhaps you all would like a hot bath?”

They all perked at this.

“Come.”

He leads them into a cave opening further into the cavern, not going too far down before making a left. Just inside was vibrant blue water, glowing and bubbling. Steam rose from it, wetting the walls and ceiling.

“Wow…” Fleur was the first to say.

“Is it safe…” Isocrates questioned, looking unsure.

“It’s a type of algae that glows in the heat. Perfectly safe. And edible.”

They could only look on in awe.

“Each is best for two only. Blanchefleur...you and your Azrulean will bathe here. Isocrates. Come with me.” Vien finally said.

The Akielon prince seemed torn. He did not want to leave his little brother with that overly large soldier that had kidnapped him. But he also wanted to go with Vien. He sighed before looking at Apollo. His eyes said it all.

_’Hurt him, and you die. Look at him, you die.’_

Then he was gone, heading further down with Vien.

They were left alone, expected to bath together.

“I can sit outside if you like.” Apollo says, turning to make his way out. He already knew how Fleur was about the subject, so he wanted to make it easy.

“No...it’s okay. Just...look away while I get undressed...I’ll tell you when I’m in.” Fleur had said surprisingly. Apollo did not anything, just merely turning around and waiting.

“You can...get undressed too...just don’t look.” Fleur’s voice was quiet, a bit shaky. As if he were nervous. 

Apollo raised a brow as he stared at the wall. But he didn’t object. He began to remove the parka, expecting it to be cold. But instead, it was a rather pleasant mix of cool and warm.

Behind him, he heard the babbling sound of water on skin, little waves upon the rock as the body moved through.

“You can come in now.” came Fleur’s voice echoing through the little cave room.

Apollo turned, not even thinking about it. He had expected Fleur to be looking away while he got in. But that hadn't been the case. Instead, the teen was staring straight ahead at him while he sat in the hot spring, eyes wide and expecting.

“Wow, so I was right.”

Apollo closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly with a groan.

“Fleur...this is so many levels of--”

“Wrong? No, it’s not. Well, on one level it might be. You weren’t expecting it. But here we are.”

His eyes opened and he continued on to the water, stepping in then sitting, just trying not to think about the fact that a prince just saw the entirety of his lower half. Nudity was nothing new to him, but this was a prince. A very sheltered prince.

“You know what I mean.” Apollo says after a bit.

“We’re both males. Same sort of thing.”

“You’re a prince.”

“And? In Akielos, it’s common to be nude for group baths and wrestling. Prince, king, whatever.”

Apollo felt an oncoming headache. This kid was just too much.

“It’s like that where we come from…”

“Then why is it different with me?”

This had the soldier pausing for a moment. Why was it different? Because the boy was so green? Too inexperienced with anything outside of his perfect palace? It wasn’t his age. Or maybe it was. Perhaps it was his sweet appearance.

Maybe it was everything about him.

“I...I don’t know.”

Fleur didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, but he said nothing else. They sat there in silence, Apollo sinking down into the water until most of his chest was submerged. 

Eyelids slipped low over blue eyes, eventually closing completely. The feeling of hot water, bubbles tickling skin, it felt so good on his tense muscles. It felt like he could really relax now. Just let go of everything around him.

Sounds of moving water was heard across from him where Fleur had been sitting after a while. He opted not to open his eyes to investigate, rathering to just stay as he was. Continue to release his mind and body of its worries.

More noises, then sound of dripping, skin slapping on wet stone eventually drew his attention. Enough so that his eyes opened and he lifted his head from where it lay to get a glimpse of what the other was doing.

It was no innocent view. At least not for him. He got an eyeful of a pale rear end at the other side of the pool.

“Fleur!”

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Isocrates lifted his head from where he’d been resting it against the soaked hair and forehead of a certain Dalmat prince.

“Did you hear that?” He asked, looking like a dog, trying to hear something off in the distance.

“Probably nothing. Or are you worried your brother will break his chastity for the Azrulean bastard? Can’t blame him really.” Vien teased.

“What if--”

“Hush. I’m sure he is fine. That Azrulean is no threat. He wouldn’t have come so far to hurt that boy.”

“But how can we be so sure about it.”

Vien looked at him with hazed, half-lidded eyes.

“Feel free to investigate then. Leave me longing while I await your return, only to see you never coming back.”

Iso looked back to Vien, giving him a scrunched look.

“What do you mean.”

“I saw personally, how that Azrulean brought you to the ground. He is capable of much. You are not foolish enough to not notice it.”

The Akielon blushed a bit about the other having seen him taken so easily.

“He cheated...I just know he did.”

“No. He is just stronger.”

“Would you rather him than I?” Iso questioned seriously.

“No. He is not my type.” said Vien

“Oh? Then what is your type?”

“A nice tan, serious Akielon that will fuck me as hard as he fights in the ring.”

“You don’t know if I’ve ever…”

“I don’t care if you have or not. But I can see it in your eyes. I saw it while you watched me undress. You looked under my parka when I had you on the ground. You want me. And I, you.”

Isocrates felt a twitch in his nether regions. Vien really knew what to say to get him feeling hotter than the water they stood in.

“Now let us stop talking. I want to know what you know, so I can teach you a thing or two.”

The Akielon gulped when he felt a firm grip on his tricep and rear end.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Apollo currently had a hand over his eyes, blocking him from the flash of pale, princely ass that he’d gotten.

“What?”

“Why are you...up...and...out.” Apollo said awkwardly, his voice cracking a bit.

“Oh, I heard something behind me. Then I saw something shiny.”

“So you get up and lean over to look at it?”

“Well, yeah…I wanted to know what it was. You’re so intent to ignore me. Boring.”

“I’m not…”

“You can uncover your eyes.” Fleur said flatly.

Apollo just sighed and dropped his hand. He instantly regretted it. Before him was a prince, pale as the moon, long hair as golden as the sun was wet and sticking to his body, cast in a luminescent blue glow. The other had not bothered to even shield himself as he stood in the water, full view of the other. He obviously hadn’t cared much.

“Are you so scared to see me naked.”

Apollo didn’t dare let his eyes drop from the mismatched ones of the prince.

“Yes. I don’t care what this is, you are still a prince. I will not break from this.”

The teen sighed gruffly, sounding irritated.

“Why do you care about this so much?” Apollo asked, wondering why the younger was so intent on this.

Pale skin went red, arms crossing childishly around a thin body.

“I don’t know.”

“What is it? Tell me. You’ve been pushing and pulling around it for the past few days. Have you some affections? A fantasy you wish I would drop my ideals to play out? Tell me.”

Fleur lowered his eyelids, looking down at the water. He said nothing, only remaining quiet, lips in a pout.

“Fleur.”

“Yes! Okay! Yes… I know...It’s stupid. We met just four days ago. Probably five now...I just…”

“Need a distraction.”

“No! That’s not…”

“Teenage feelings. Fleur, it happens. But I’m not going to sway at something like that. Even if I did, you’re still too young. Not even--”

“Sixteen. I know. I’m very well aware of that.” He sounded hard, displeased with the way the conversation had gone. “I’ve had this conversation plenty of times. So stop.”

“Fleur--”

“No, just stop. I don’t want to hear it. I hear it enough. Something dances in the air when you reach a certain age. You fall for anyone and anything that comes your way. Easily swayed, stupid love for no real reason. Things will feel different, my body will be different. And maybe it is. But I don’t...I don’t feel that way…”

“It never feels that way…”

“What about you then? You act like I’m blind. That my brother is blind. That no one sees you... looking at me. Why? Why do you look at me? Do you secretly hate me, and you’re just thinking of ways to off me? Do you have some sort of regret, saving me? Do I have a demon clutching at my back that no one but you can see? Why?”

“Or perhaps you are feeling the same way as I. You feel something there, and you don’t even know what it is. You catch yourself staring, and you have to shake it off. Because Gods, I do that more than I care to admit. But I know why I do. I...I like seeing you smile. Those weird little faces you make when you think of something, I don’t even know what, when you think no one is looking. The way you hold yourself in conversation.”A deep breath was taken before continuing

“I can’t…I can’t help but feel so comfortable around you. I don’t feel that way around anyone but my closest family. And even then, I do not speak so openly to them as I do you. I don’t know what it is. I never have. All I know is...I just want to be close to you...like I was that night you held me. I know you didn’t know what to do. You could have just left me to lay there and cry myself to sleep...but you didn’t.”

Fleur was in a heated passion, his cheeks red, not only from the heat of the water and room but the intensity of the words spewing from his lips.

“You are willing to give everything up for me...You’ve already left your whole life behind...why...What does one call that.”

Apollo’s eyes never left Fleur’s. He could see the fire burning brighter and hotter within them than the one they’d sat before just an hour ago. He heard the words that were beyond the teens years, questioning him. His very being and motives. 

Without thinking, he replied, “Love…”

They stayed quiet, just staring each other down.

“Crazy, stupid love.” He reiterated.

Fleur sighed, nodding.

“We can’t do this. You know that.” Apollo said. “I...I can’t. You are a prince… and I am just a soldier, bound on getting you get back home, where you belong. In the end, we would have parted anyways. You would be courted by fine princes from all around. You’ll marry one of them. And you’ll live happily ever after. Because that is what you deserve. I am just a soldier. A traitor. I could never give you that.”

The blonde looked down in defeat.

“You will bring me to Hamar...help me to gather my forces...fight the battles at my side...then you will leave. Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“You will say nothing more to me? You will just ride away...Find some woman to marry...have children...you’ll grow old and hard from farming for the rest of your life.”

“I don't know if I’d make it that far. I’d be hunted. I am a traitor. There is no greater crime in Azrule.”

“Fine then.”

Apollo felt bad for turning him down so harshly. But he knew it had to be done. He couldn't do this to Fleur’s life. He was still so young. So much to look forward to. So much to experience. He couldn’t just let the kid fall for him like that. He was hardly a good match for him. Just a man that came from lowly humble beginnings. Not even able to hold a candle to the bright, well-bred prince. 

Fleur sighed once more before stepping and walking towards the steps to come out of the hot spring. He did not make it so far. 

His foot slipped on some of the algae, slipping him into a crevice in the stone under the water. He fell directly in, going under. He began to panic when he could not get his foot released, and his other could not get enough grip to lift himself out of the water to catch a breath. He couldn’t breathe, the water coming into his lungs only making him panic more.

Hands were on him, bringing up until he surfaced. Loud hacking racked his body, spitting up the water he ingested. His body was still freaking out, squirming all around.

“Woa, woa, Fleur you’re okay. Calm down. I’ve got you.” Apollo said, holding the smaller to himself. “I’ve got you….”

These words calmed the younger easily, wide blue and hazel eyes were staring at him as he still gasped for air.

“I-It hurts...Get it out...it hurts…” the prince sobbed, mostly from being temporarily waterlogged, but the rest from the real pain of his ankle being caught in the stone and being pulled.

Apollo looked panicked for a second, but he acted quickly.

“Keep your foot on the ground. Don’t panic.” then the man dunked down into the water.

He held himself under where the prince's foot was caught in a slivered hole in the stone. He first tried wriggling it out, but it barely budged. Rising back to the surface, he shook out his head.

“Okay...this might hurt more. I’ve gotta move it to get it out. I’m gonna use the algae as a lubricant. So just hang tight.” 

Fleur look completely pained, but he nodded.

“Just hurry and do it.”

Without another word, the soldier went under again. He made quick work of pulling a good amount of algae together in his hand and slipping it into the crevice, trying to cover as much as he could. Once he practically filled the area with the stuff, he began to wiggle the delicate ankle and foot from its place. 

Slowly, but surely, it began to come loose. When it was finally released, he brushed the algae from the area to see the damage done. The skin was already bruised and only getting worse. There were scrapes leaking a little blood here and there, but otherwise, it seems fine. Probably sprained, but nothing more.

The man rose from the water, taking a deep breath from his minute spent under the water. He shook out the water from his hair, pushing it back after, then ran a hand over his face. Blurrily, he looked at Fleur.

“Are you alright?” He asked, trying to get a grasp on how much pain the other was in.

“Yeah...It just...It’s pulsing..and hurts.”

“We’ll go have it checked out.” 

Apollo knew the other would never make it up those steps. So he got out, pulled on his pants, no matter of being wet, then pulled Fleur easily from the water. And with just as much ease, the prince was held in his arms, like a man would hold his delicate bride. His large Parka was spread over the small exposed body before he began to walk them back up, in hopes that something could be done for the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, we have finally come to the feelings. Stupid love. Apollo being the adult here, despite his own stupid feelings.  
>  *claps hands* Come now, children. Get it together. It's only been... *looks and empty wrist, then the sun* five days. 
> 
> Also, aaahh, Vien and Isocrates??? Like, I'd been rolling this around in my head for a while. Turns out I really liked it. Are they fuck buddies? Do they get deeper(hurrhurr)? Who knows. I certainly don't know yet.
> 
> Comment! Leave me sum luuuuve. Suggestions??? other dynamics you want to see??? I'm open to many things!


	12. I'm Torn To Be With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving along and dealing with self-consciousness is never easy on a teenage mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I AM SO SORRY.  
> I have been dealing with so much crap lately. And honestly, all I've wanted to do is write this. But now, here we are, I hope it was worth the wait! And I hope next chapter won't take as long.  
> ALSO HELLO, A LITTLE ALMOST SMUT RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE ANYONE?? lmao
> 
> Also, consider supporting me with a Coffee or two? Money is very tight right now (0A0) https://ko-fi.com/N4N1AOF0

“Oh!” Came a surprised Vien, his head snapping up from where it was laying back on the rock. Isocrates had been between his legs for the past five minutes, slowly exploring the Dalmat’s body with his hands, mouth, and tongue. It was a rather pleasurable experience for the both of them.

Isocrates hardly knew what he was doing, so he was touching him in all places, in all sorts of manners. Vien responded well to most of his touches, leaving him wanting to touch him more.

“Sorry…” The younger apologized, his eyes just barely peeking over a hot, blood-filled appendage, face still mostly buried where it’d been exploring

“No, do it again. That felt really good.” 

He looked back down to his worked area, and began again, flicking his tongue in and out, sliding it thickly over the wet skin. 

Isocrates had come to find just minutes before why there were so few women in the tribe when he’d first slipped his hands down Vien’s body, feeling the curves of his body. He felt the hole he’d been hoping to be in some time that night. And the cock he’d be sucking on. But when he laid Vien down and let his hands wander further, he felt his fingers slip in somewhere softer, wetter. It had been warm and velvety and the look Vien had been giving him was all he’d needed to know precisely what it was he was fingering. It was unusual, but so far, that trait alone had yet to stop him. He liked it, even.

Now, he had his face buried in that warm, soft place, nose nuzzling the soft hair, mouth sucking when his tongue wasn’t licking the warm crevice. The noises the Dalmat prince was releasing drove him on, wanting to please him as best he could even despite having never done this before.

Footsteps and a voice down the way had him lifting his head once more, however, unable to understand the Dalmat language. Vien sat up upon hearing the intruder.

“Come, something has happened.” Was all that was said before both princes were on their feet and getting dressed.

They arrived shortly after, parting the crowd to get inside, throwing aside the fabric of the flap, he took in the scene. Blanchefleur was laying on fur bed meant for patients, body wrapped up and warm in furs, some large garment still tight in his grasp.

His pale leg was raised and rest on the doctor's thigh, gentle hands applying some sort of mixture of crushed leaves, minerals, and something else similar to the glowing algae, as the mixture had a slight luminescence to it. Vien spoke in Dalmat, likely inquiring what happened. The doctor did not look up, only continued to sooth on the mix to the swelling bruises as he spoke. When the man finished explaining, Vien seemed a bit relieved.

“What happened,” Isocrates asked, wanting to know what happened to his brother. He was ready to kill. That Azrulean wasn’t present. Perhaps he’d done something.

“Fleur slipped into a crack in the pools. The Azrulean got him out. So they say.” Vien had explained, arms crossed.

Isocrates was not relieved whatsoever by this. He knelt beside Fleur, taking up his free hand that wasn’t gripping the garment he held so close to himself.

“Tell them to let him go. He’s done nothing wrong.” Fleur spoke, looking at Isocrates with hardened eyes.

“He has touched you.”

“Because he had to. He saved me. I could have drowned otherwise. Why can’t you just let this petty grudge you have go. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have already. Free him.”

He was still not pleased, and it showed with the distasteful look on his face.

“If he dies, I will never forgive you. He has saved my life thrice over. He’d die for me.” Fleur looked ready to punch him, his eyes narrowed and threatening.

“Don’t be a fool, Fleur. Why would he risk all of this for you? He does not know you. You’re a fifteen-year-old prince with no outside experience. He’s taking advantage of you. He knows--”

“Get out. Don’t start with this. I’m not asking you to bless it and forgive him. I’m telling you to keep him alive. But I see you’re not willing to be talked to. So get out. Prince Vien, please release him. He’s done nothing wrong. Please.” 

Fleur’s hand had been ripped out from Iso’s as he spoke to the other prince, the Akielon being outright ignored now. Isocrates did not know what to do. His little brother would not listen, so he sighed and stood, leaving the room. He just did not understand the appeal.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Fleur watched Vien gave a wordless signal to someone outside before he came to kneel beside him.

“I believe you.” The Dalmat spoke, his features calm and pleasant. “He is an honorable man.” Fleur looked at him with a deep stare.

“How would you know that. You’ve known him a few hours all together…”

“And you only about five days?” Vien chided, causing Fleur to withdraw a bit, looking away.

“I knew him once.” The Dalmat began. This caught Fleur’s attention, causing him to look back at the foreign prince.

“You...knew him? But how? There’s just no way.”

“You said he told you of his people's invasion of our territory, and how they tried killing us when had done nothing to provoke it. Did you not? Did he tell you he was there that night? The night it began...when the Azruleans first stepped foot on Wolvane soil. He was there...just a pup. He treaded lightly, eyes wide and scared.”

“He...He told me that he was there...And that he was taken in with a handful of others for the night.”

“Yes. He was. I chose him to come with us. He was the one that looked closest to my age. They were an odd group...Mother, I knew would not allow me near the men. So I asked to bring the boy. They did. He was hesitant...but very kind and sweet. Like any other kid his age, he tried to act tough. It was rather cute. And it was regretful having to return him to his group...and even more so when things turned sour…”

Vien looked down to his palms, seemingly thinking about something.

“I figured I’d never see him again after that. I’d never see what kind of man he would turn out to be. But what were the odds that he would be the one to bring my cousin across the border and keep him safe?”

Fleur seemed to freeze at this, Vien cocking his head at the strange reaction.

“What is it?”

“You said cousin...that's an odd way to put things…”

“You didn’t know?”

“ _Know what_?” Fleur asked, his brows furrowing, head turning just the slightest in confusion

“We are related by blood. We share a grandmother. Did you never wonder where those glorious orbs of yours came from? It was no mistake in the womb.”

What little color Fleur had in his skin all but drained out.

They were...related?

“I...no...no no. I had no idea of this.” He said in nearly a panic, brows furrowed in confusion. “I barely know my mother’s family. All I know of her is that she is a princess that never planned to marry. She did not know her mother. And my grandfather...I have never met him.” The Dalmat seemed to warm a bit at this and smiled.

“Well, perhaps you should take it up with him. Our mothers are sisters. Seems your grandfather got very busy with a Dalmat Queen.” The young prince seemed to consider this for a bit before sighing. 

“I suppose I shall...Though, speaking of which. You said we would talk immediately to the Chieftain. We have not yet spoken to anyone. Why is that.” The younger inquired, giving Vien a questioned look. Vien only sighed, looking rather troubled.

“Yes...you were supposed to. But...the Chieftain...my mother...has not yet returned. She and a group of our veteran warriors went out to scout the area some hours ago, with a promise to return before our parting tomorrow. There has been no word from them. I sent out scouts of my own. We have not heard from them either. Listeners have had no sign of them even in the area.” 

Fleur gave him a confused look.

“We travel communication by howling.” Vien clarified, Fleur understanding immediately now by what he meant.

“And nothing?”

“Not even a chirp. I….I’ve been worried. And as much as I want to go out there and find them...I cannot. I am the heir of this tribe. If something had gone wrong out there, it would be likely to happen to us as well. I cannot have that. I will not be foolish enough to lead my people into ruin.”

The young blonde thought about this. An heir left behind to take control if something were to happen to the leader. He thought of his father, of his papa. He knew what it felt like to feel heart clenching worry for a parent. Were they alright? Where were they? Are they...alive?

The helplessness hurt the worst, however. As an heir, it was their duty to carry on. They could not turn back. Could not stomp into the pits of hell to find whether or not their life really had burned down completely or not. As Princes, they had to remain strong. For their people.

Did Fleur have that in him? He questioned himself. Did he have what it really took to take back a kingdom? Did he have the courage and strength required to continue a war that broke his family and country?

What was he made of?

Paper skin and twig bones, surely. He was a pampered little prince. Just like Apollo had been telling him he was. Just as Isocrates treated him. As everyone saw him. He was nothing.

Vien had left him to brood in himself, and he fell asleep to these tiresome thoughts of self-pity of what he was not.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Preparations to leave had begun at some point that night. And when it came time to leave early in the morning, Fleur had been shaken awake by Apollo.

“Don’t hit me, please. It’s time to go.” The man said, leaning over the other a bit. Fleur had been very close to reflexively jutting out an arm again. He didn’t. Instead, he sat up and yawned, pulling the furs close to his body.

“Where are my clothes.” The prince asked and was answered wordlessly by Apollo holding out a folded bundle of clothes. They weren’t furs and buckskin. It was fine materials, fit for a Veretian prince.

“The Feltian’s sent them this morning. Or so I’m told. They wished to see you properly dressed.” Fleur raised a blonde brow and smirked in amusement.

“Interesting. So the Feltian’s wish to see me in my fully dressed, Veretian glory. But with style and patterns that are their own. Well, I suppose I cant decline a gift from a future ally. Attend me.”

Fleur, without another word, stood. The furs dropped to the ground, leaving him in his stark naked glory.

“...Why do you do this to me.” Apollo groaned as he stood.

“I like watching you squirm. It’s cute.”

A sigh escaped the man in exasperation.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Fleur did not like these clothes.

Over his nearly sixteen years of life, he’d fit himself into a whole array of clothing. Tightly laced, thick Veretian doublets, light and airy Akielon chitons of all lengths, comfortably fashionable Patran garments, and even imported silky, flowing Peratian clothing.

But this? This was hell. Never in his life had he ever needed to wear a corset. Nor did he ever have to come to realize just how...chubby he was.

“...I look like a fat lard. Why is this a thing with these Feltians? Corsets? Seriously?”

“It...emphasizes your…” Apollo began.

A blonde head whips around from looking at a reflection in the shiny strange rock.

“ _I fucking dare you to finish that sentence._ ”

Large scarred hands come up defensively. “I was just gonna say it emphasizes your figure. You’re very shapely. I don’t think I ever realized it.” Apollo finished before the small blonde could really blow up on him.

“You’ve seen me naked, you dolt. How could you have not noticed?” Fleur seemed very on edge and self-conscious of his figure now as he turned back to his reflection.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because I was actively trying to ignore that very fact.”

They both sigh in unison, Fleur of frustration and Apollo in exhaustion. And as if cued, Isocrates pushed aside the fabric flap and entered.

“You ready to--...pfft. Holy crap, you’re so chunky. When did that happen?” The Akielon ducked immediately after saying such words when a rock came flying his way.

“God, can anyone please just...find me something else that doesn’t make me look like the cow that I am.”

“You’re not a cow--”

“Fine, then a careless aristocratic potato that does nothing but sits on his ass, eat and talk about all the rubies he’s got on his fingers.” Fleur let out an exasperated groan as he untied and practically ripped the corset from himself, tossing it away hastily.

“I refuse to wear it. I cannot go looking like that.”

The two men glanced at each other before back to the now fuming blonde.

“Perhaps they will not mind...But should they ask…?” Apollo asked as he went and picked up the leather garment.

“I’ll tell them it was ill-fitting. Vague enough they will not know the true meaning.” The teen hissed. Isocrates just rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be outside waiting for your pissy Highness.” The Akielon Prince left and they were left alone once more. Apollo was rather surprised by the fact that the other was not being salty towards him. But he decided to save that thought for another time. In this time, he walks over to the prince, who was glaring at the wall, arms crossed.

“Come now, Blanchefleur. Don’t be difficult. You...you looked very cute.” He felt a bit bashful in speaking his mind, but he knew now was the better time to do so. “Don’t let it bother you. You’ll grow out of it. At this age, we were all awkward in our own ways. I used to be a very lanky teenager. I never put on any weight, no matter what I did. I was just a tall walking stick.”

The man placed a hand on the smaller shoulder, gently pulling him around so they could look at each other. Fleur still refused to meet eyes, even after he was turned.

“Look at me.” The Azrulean said gently. And when the prince still refused, he lifted the hand from his shoulder to lift up a rounded, yet elegant chin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Am I now? Or perhaps it is just the eyes. It’s always been the eyes. What more do I have going for me? Don’t go spouting nonsense to me. I won’t hear it.” Fleur retorted with a bit of a snarl.

Apollo should have been feeling frustrated. He didn't. Instead, his mind was racing to find a way to bring confidence to Fleur. However, he was just a bit confused. Just the eyes, he’d said. 

“What do you mean.”

“You know what I mean. No one cares about blonde hair or pale skin. That exists anywhere. I’ve met more than enough pompous little trinkets with those exact qualities. What of me? I’m short, with a round face. I’ve got all this...childish chubbiness, enough I can’t even properly wear a corset without looking like a lumpy muffin. I’ve got nothing special but these stupid eyes. No one ever shuts up about them. They never look at me. They look at them. Hazel and blue. A goddamn curse they are…”

It felt like he was starting to understand for the first time. In the small amount of time he’d spent occupying near the high courts of Akielos-Vere, he’d come to see how some of the courtiers acted. Self-important, pretentious pricks, the lot of them. Fleur spent a lot of his time around them, being as that he was very involved in the politics this past year. But it was hardly the politics they spoke about when it came to the young blonde prince. Despite his high intelligence level and quick wits, he was nothing but a piece of jewelry adorning the courts to be ogled. Candy to devour in an austere environment. Disgusting.

A fifteen-year-old would have never been tolerated in any other court, but this one let him right in for their own gross purposes. It gave Apollo chills. No wonder the other was so flamboyant in everything he did. How else to call attention to his other qualities than to blatantly throw them out there for all to see.

“Just forget it. Let’s go. I don’t need a corset to show them the delicate flower Veretian they’re expecting.” Fleur had said before Apollo could break from his thoughts to reply to him.

They walked out and were lead down a tunnel, an opening just down the end of it where they came up. Isocrates, Vien, the archers, and a dozen Dalmat warriors already awaited there on their horses.

“About time. Are you done being a child.” The Akielon asked, but never got a reply. Not even a glance was spared for him. Fleur merely swung up onto the horse that’d been lead to him.

These horses were not the ones they had been riding before. No, they were painted horses, varying from black and white to palomino and white. Beautiful beasts they were. Fleur was seen admiring the colorings with a hand sliding over the fur before they began to ride off.

It wasn’t until they were a little ways away that Vien came to ride beside Fleur. Apollo could hear them easily from where he rode only feet from Fleur’s side. He kept his eyes on the warriors ahead of them.

“My mother returned. She wished you the best of luck on the ride to Hamar. Suomis, Chieftain of the Dalmat Tribe lends her best warriors when the time for war arrives.” 

The Fleur looked over, and just from a glance, he could tell he was smiling and rather pleasantly surprised.

“I am glad to hear this. I will make the most of my best resources.”

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

The ride out to the very edge of the forest was not long. When they came close to the agreed meeting destination, Vien sent out scouts to see if indeed the Feltians were there.

The scouts returned, and a nod was all that was needed before they were off at a canter to reach their destination quicker. The group squinted upon coming closer to the cut off of trees where forest turned into a wide open meadow, bright and full of life. The sun just beyond was so bright, it was hard to see much of anything until they left the cover of the trees.

And once they did, ahead they saw a large formation. Apollo estimated quietly, some two hundred men. A worrisome number both he and Isocrates had warned. Fleur only continued onwards

The surrounding retinue opened up, a small posse of red horses coming through, flowing banners of green silk among them. At the head was a very refined figure, sitting upright, head held high on a thin, pale neck. Long red hair flowed behind them much like the long green robe adorning his shoulders. 

Fleur felt a sense of familiarity. The man reminded him greatly of his father with the way he carried himself. The way he held himself in only the most prestigious of manners, the ever cool look on his face. 

 

The man road up, not even a smile upon his pink lips. Stopping, he looked at them, as if pinpointing who is who, and who to address first. Fleur could see the immense intelligence in the way he gazed at him, calculating green eyes taking in his own appearance and stance. 

“Greetings fellow kin. I am not aware if Prince Vien has informed you who I am. I am Prince Aein of Feltal, sixth son of Daen and Aietris.” Aein did not have the slightest trace of an expression on his stiff face. “Welcome to Platis. Or as you will call it, The Plains. Tonight, we stay at the palace, then we cross Platis first thing in the morning.”

“Not to be rude,” Isocrates spoke. “But can I ask why we must wait until morning?” Aein, Fleur could tell, was familiar with straight men like Isocrates. 

“Because we will need the full day to cross. No one sleeps among the plains. That is how you get slaughtered.”

“By whom?” Fleur decided to ask.

“Prairie dogs. Plains bandits. Ruthless raiders that will take any chance they can get to weasel their way in and take whatever they may. They are people without mercy, and there are many of them. We can fight them on the move, but not at a standstill. Before you ask, we have attempted it. Killed and ransacked. All of them.”

Fleur felt a small twinge of worry, but he didn’t dare let it consume him. He remained as stiff and tall on his horse as Aein.

“Very well. Lead on, brother.” They waited for the posse to turn, the army to position itself, then they were off. Fleur, Isocrates, Vien, and Aein rode side by side, equals among each other. Fleur made small conversation with Aein, inquiring about his kingdom and it’s customs, as he did not wish to offend upon arriving. Vien and Isocrates were silent but were not without something to occupy themselves as they were staring at each other, giving the occasional flirty look.

The conversation had gone for hours, ranging from the economy and taxes to farming and crops. Vien and Isocrates had joined in at some point. Fleur had even been called out for not wearing the corset.

“I found it...ill-fitting.” Fleur had explained, leaving Aein to give him an apologetic look.

“Oh? I am terribly sorry. We will find a more appropriate sizing.” 

“Er...is it absolutely necessary?” Aein cocked his head a bit but came to an understanding.

“We will find something suitable. The court expects you fully dressed, and that includes something fitting about the waistline. Not to worry. We will find you something.” The redheaded prince reassured.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Eventually, they all began to realize they had come into a forest far taller than the previous ones. The trees were absolutely massive, towering a hundred feet or so above them. In the distance, the first signs of life were coming into view. A massive wooden gate with winding, thick vines upon it, flowers blooming by the thousands on them. And once past them, they got to see the bustling little Feltian city of Qualum. 

“Wait, you’re telling me there's more than one Feltian city?” Isocrates had asked as Aein had talked more about his people.

“Yes, a two-day ride from here, northwards is the city Nepulum. And to the East five days is Autulam.” Aein replied.

The Feltian peoples seemed to share nearly the same qualities as their prince. Red and auburn hair was rather common, as well as very dark brown, that seemed nearly black. Freckles also seemed to be extremely common, as most of the commoners had them.

Arriving at the far greater gates of the palace was quieter, and was without the gawking stares they'd gotten just moments before. The palace was enormous, carved into a great mountain face. It was unseen due to the massive trees, and unreachable because of the completely vertical drop off. It’s no wonder no one knew these people truly existed. They would be impossible to find way out here. Tracking them would a mess.

Dismounting, the archers were left to tend to the horses, and to be shown their quarters by servants. Vien, Isocrates, and Fleur were being led inside. Apollo made a move to make off with the archers and servants, but was called to Aein’s side.

“You plan to kill Decimus, is that correct?” The prince asked, looking up at the massive Azrulean’s eyes, the hard stare was enough to make even him feel a little nervous.

“Yes, that is my plan,” Apollo answered firmly, as a soldier would to his captain.

“Then you will be treated like royalty. An heir to the Azrulean empire. That is how it works in Azrule, is it not?”

“Yes. Whoever kills the king, becomes king himself.” Fleur was eying him at this before turning.

“Very well. Prince Apolotus, this way.” 

All were shown their respective rooms by the Feltian prince and were given heavy priority on whatever they desired. Fleur was the last to be escorted to his room, and from there, he assumed, Aein helped him to find appropriate attire for that night’s dinner among the Feltian court.

Apollo did not know what to make of the massive room he’d been given. Considering he’d grown up a commoner, then became a soldier, he naturally did not know what it felt like to stay in such grand rooms like this. He’d been inside of the King’s quarters during Decimus ’s rule, but those visits had been brief. He’d never had such a room as this all to himself. It left him standing in the middle of it all, gazing on in bewilderment.

A knock on the door drew him from his amazement, and he actually had to think about how to respond.

“I uh...yes, come in.” He called, turned to look at the door. A servant entered, bowing a little before straightening.

“I am sent to prepare you for tonight’s dinner, then escort you to Prince Blanchefleur’s quarters.” The servant had a stack of neatly folded clothes resting atop of his forearm. Apollo could only imagine how this was going to go when he spotted a garment with lacing among the other fabrics. Seemed corsets were a heavy fashion among Feltian highborns.

Nodding, he allowed the servant to guide him to the baths where the day’s riding was washed away, then brought back to be dressed. He wouldn’t have admitted it aloud, but he didn’t entirely mind the Feltian dressing for men. The shirt was silky and free around the arms. The chest area was breathable, and the corseted lower part of the vest was only pulled just enough to give him a desirably sculpted figure. The pants were high-waisted and fit well with a heavily adorned belt. The boots surprisingly fit just as good and were brand new. How they knew his size, he wasn’t sure but didn’t question it.

After getting a good look in the mirror, he nodded in approval. He looked like someone of nobility. Certainly not like the soldier he’d been for so many years. In all honesty, this was probably the most expensive and covered clothing he’d ever worn. Sure, the clothing for the Akielos-Vere party had been a little much, and the parka and pants back at the Dalmat cave had been quite a lot. But none of it compared.

The servant returned with a circle of gold, having to step on the pedestal near the mirror to place it on Apollo’s head, fitting it perfectly just above his brow, then began to mess with his hair. The circlet was definitely not something he’d expected. The clothing and room? Sure. But the circlet was the last thing he’d expected to be placed upon him. He was not royalty by any means, at least not yet. He hadn’t the first bit of knowledge of how to act as such as he was literally just been thrown into this. He almost wished he’d just been allowed to stay in the barracks with the archers. At least he would have felt more at home there, and not so out of place in a palace room.

With his hair properly done, he was lead down a ways to Fleur’s room, waiting for the allowance inside. Stepping inside, he was blown away by a single look. Fleur was standing on the pedestal in front of the three side mirrors, his clothes being adjusted still by a   
Seamstress.

The blonde looked in the mirror to see him, his hair being fixed into braided perfection. “What do you think?” He asked, a little smile on his pink lips. Apollo felt his pulse quickening greatly.

“You look…” Amazing, wonderful, regal, elegant, beautiful, stunning. He wanted to say every word under the sun, and still, none of it would be enough to describe it.

Fleur was dressed from head to toe in white and gold, fabrics so fine that they could only be described as fit for a king. The white tunic came down to his mid-thigh and was cinched with a fine gold fabric at his waist. White tights rest just below and fine shoes with a slightly curved toe. An overcoat of heavy fabrics and fur rested in the crease of his upper and forearm, leaving him to permanently have his arms at a 90-degree angle. And over top of all of that was a long cape train that flowed out a good 6 feet from his shoulders. Far longer than he was tall, so it would surely drag as soon as he stepped off the pedestal.

Apollo could not find the words to describe him or to even answer him back. That long golden hair was done up in many braids and loops entwined with golden chains and jewels, a circlet also resting on his brow.

“I cannot find words.” He eventually said, his eyes still wide upon the other. Fleur seemed to smile and chuckle a bit at his reaction.

“It is very heavy. I asked you here to escort me to the hall. I am afraid I may trip and never get up.” The blonde turned his head and looked into the mirror as he had been earlier. “Even as a Veretian, I have never worn so much clothing. My papa should really appreciate that Veretian clothing is not like this.”

Apollo swallowed hard as he stepped in closer, coming in close that his shoulder brushed against the overcoat.

“At least you won't be cold.”

“Ah yes, as if that would be a concern with you around. Help me down. I believe i am ready.” Fleur held out an expectant hand for him, to which Apollo took and held as he helps the other to keep his balance. He then pushed out an elbow for Fleur to cling to, which he was taken up on immediately.

“Sure you’re ready?” He asked as they stood just before the doors.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

The walk through the halls of the massive rock palace had been rather pleasant, taking their time to enjoy the view outside the overlooking open windows, making silly small talk about little things that's happened so far. Then when they made an entrance into the hall, Fleur had practically been swarmed by Feltian Nobility. Apollo was rather surprised to find there were so many of them here, but also figured some of them may have flocked from the other Feltian city when they heard the Hamarian prince would be there for a single night.

Apollo had been practically pushed out of the crowd, and he could only watch from afar as Fleur made ease out through each conversation and question. He was a natural at this, Apollo noted, a little smile appearing on his face. 

After a while, he decided to find something else to do than to watch nobles try and overwhelm the little prince. He ended up finding himself at the table covered with foods that he could freely pick at as he pleased. He tried a little of everything, finding that Feltian food was delicate, but had similar tastes to that of his homeland. Perhaps Feltian’s were Azrulean descendants that branched off. Or vice versa.

He had some wine and a little more food. Women came to him, talking to him, asking him to dance. He didn’t turn away any of them, not wanting to be rude. He wasn’t the best dancer as he never had any need to know how, but the women still complimented him, telling him he was a natural. Apollo was passed all around, dancing and drinking with so many people, it was becoming a blur.

Then came the time that a coordinated dance would take place. People were flocking him, though, he politely turned each down. He did not quite feel like dancing to this. But before long, everyone had found a partner. Everyone but a long bystander by one of the great stone pillars. It was Fleur. Apollo walked over to him, a little smile on his face.

“Not going to dance?” He asked a brow raised curiously. Fleur looked up at him, seeming to be a bit surprised.

“Oh um...Well, I turned everyone down...silly mistake on my part. I’ve no one left.”

“You have me.” Apollo offered, his lips still ever so slightly turned upwards. Fleur blinked, expression soft and considering.

“I...suppose I do.” A delicate hand was offered to him, to which he took and lead out to the floor. They got into position, his hand on the Fleur’s back, and Fleurs hand resting on his chest as he was too tall for it to be at the back of his neck. Their free hands were gently entwined, sweaty palm on sweaty palm. Both were nervous. They’d never been close and so conscious of the proximity. 

Apollo noted just how soft and unblemished Fleur’s hands were. He wanted to remember it forever. Because not long from now, he knew that when everything was done, and they had accomplished what they set out to do, he would leave, and would never return. He would never get to feel this again. Fleur did not deserve just a meager soldier like him.

The dance began, and as they glided around the floor in coordinated steps and twists, their eyes never left one another’s. It was silly, he thought. How could he have fallen so stupidly in love in six days? Why did he feel so strongly about him? How could he feel this way?

Apollo tripped up a little bit, stepping lightly on Fleur’s foot. He apologized, but Fleur only giggled.

“Clumsy much?”

“A little. I don’t dance. Ever.” He explained with a sheepish smile.

“It sure didn’t seem that way when you dance with those women.” Fleur’s words had him feeling nervous. Had he been so flawless with them? Did Fleur think he wanted them?

“I...I guess I have a knack for it...but I have no practice.” He didn’t want them. They held no value to him. They were just noblewomen.

“Then allow me to teach.” No. What he wanted, he couldn’t have. He knew he could have it if he asked. But it would be immature of him. Selfish. He had to think of the future. He couldn’t have it. 

Fleur taught him a few moves while they danced, and even continue on when the coordinated dance had ended. Few remained on the floor with them, but they didn’t care. All that mattered was the person in front of them. Apollo got the hang of the taught moves, and he twirled Fleur all around the floor to each new song, the prince giggling and laughing heartily. They were all smiles and joy, having the best time of their lives. 

An eternity had passed when they finally decided to stop, breathless from their movements and laughter. They gulped down expensive wines, Fleur ate lots of cheesy foods, Apollo devoured a considerable amount of chicken. And still, neither seemed to mind anyone outside of their blissful little world of each other. 

When more and more people began to retire, Fleur decided he must as well. They had a long journey ahead of them the next day. Apollo escorted him back.

The long way back up to Fleur’s room had been wine-filled giggles from them both, and a lot of Apollo trying to keep hold of Fleur’s clumsy drunk self. When they reached the right door, Fleur turned to him.

“Stay the night with me.” The prince had slurred. “And I don’t mean...like that...cuz I know you’ll say no. But just...sleep here...I don’t think I can sleep without you nearby…”

“I'm right down the way. You’ll be alright.” Apollo chuckled. “It’s only been nearly a week. I think you’ll live without me.”

“But I don’t wanna…” He slurred more and drug his words out like a whining child would.

“Come on, get in your room Fleur. I’ll see you in the morning.” Apollo opened the door and lead the prince inside, allowing the servants to take him so they could attend to his nightly clothes. Then he left, making his way back to his room. He was hardly coordinated at this point, having to walk alongside the wall so he wasn’t on the brink of falling over. 

He dismissed the servants when he arrived at his room, then collapsed onto the bed. It was so comfortable. Unlike anything he’d ever laid on before. Before sleep could take him, he pulled off his clothes and boots, then pulled on the silky sleep pants that were laid out for him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was gone, taken away by a drunken sleep filled with happiness and laughter.

At some point later, since he was a light sleeper no matter of the influences in his body, he awoke to a knock at the door. Sitting up a little, he called to come in. A silhouette of a small body came in, a small candle held in their hand.

“ ‘Pollo…” Came a gentle, tired voice. Apollo barely recognized it, but when he did, he sat up further.

“Fleur? What is it? Are you okay?” He asked, eyes blinking more to further wake himself.

“I...I can’t...sleep. Nightmares. Can I please stay…” The teen's voice sounded shaky and rough like he’d just been crying.

“Yes, of course. Come here.” He adjusted himself so Fleur had a whole side of the bed to himself. The blonde blew out the candle when he came to the bed, setting it off to the side before slipping under the covers. 

Apollo got comfortable before sleep began to take over him again, the alcohol still in his system making it that much easier. But before he completely fell into a slumber, he felt soft fabric and heat at his side. He gently moved an arm to wrap around the small body, then fell asleep.


	13. Good Morning, Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing fears, cold nights, a bed once full of warmth, now felt so empty. Nothing is the same anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEll um. This was fun to write. it's probably a little splotchy, plot-wise. Cuz honestly, I didn't put a ton of thought into it. I just started writing.   
> Hopefully, it's bearable to read, LMAO  
> Welp, enjoy!
> 
> My Playlist:  
> I Still Wait For You - XYLO  
> Love Life - Natalie Taylor  
> Wait For You - Elliott Yamin  
> Dark Side Of Me - Coheed and Cambria  
> Never Let Me Go - Florence+The Machines  
> I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing - Aerosmith  
> Eyelids - Pvris <\--(This is a reoccurring song. I listen to it at least once writing every chapter lmao)

The morning had come, headaches and nausea likely a common ailment throughout the Palace, mostly among those that had attended the gathering the night before. But the morning moved quickly as preparation to leave was nearly at its completion. 

Apollo hadn’t gone to breakfast. Instead, for once in his life, he lay in bed, half-awake as he watched a small back rise and fall in slumber. He had woken to find that Fleur had slipped closer to him in the night and was practically laying on top of him. Knowing the teen hadn’t been sleeping well for the past week, he did not stir to let him sleep for just a while longer.

The soldier had to admit, watching Fleur sleep was rather relaxing. Instead of the normally bitter, snappy tongue he had during the day, he was like a resting rabbit when sleeping so soundly. His lax face, mouth slightly parted as he snored quietly, cheeks flushed a little. Long blonde hair had been woven into a thick braid to keep it from being laid on, his bangs a mess over his face. Apollo pushed them back.

The gentle touch had seemed to wake the sleeping prince, thick eyelashes fluttering as sleep-gentled eyes opened. Apollo admired the sight. The normally straight-backed, rebellious teen was now melted down, calm, soft. Thin, elegant fingers graced his chest when the prince began to come into conciousness, tracing the hard lines of heavy muscle.

“...you let me stay…” came a groggy little whisper. Fleur was making his heart race with such delicate touches, his voice too cute to even bear.

“I did. You had a nightmare. I didn’t want you to be alone.” said Apollo, becoming hyper-aware now of how they were. His hand was on Fleur’s back, holding him close. The prince’s head rested on his shoulder. A hand on his chest…

Suddenly, Apollo was moving, gentle to not let Fleur’s head flop from his shoulder too hard. He stood, walking off to get dressed. He did not look back to see if Fleur had gotten up.

He dressed in the garments left for him, which was surprisingly neither Feltian, nor Veretian in style. It was his own homes style of garment and armor, fit for a soldier, or a gladiator. 

Looking in the mirror, he felt odd being in these clothes once more. He wondered how anyone else would feel about seeing him in this. But it wasn’t like he had an option. He was being treated as though he were the heir to the Azrulean throne. A prince. That was laughable, because there hadn’t been an Azrulean prince in over 200 years. Everything in Azrule now seemed to be revolving around killing. Kill to live, kill to rule.

He pulled on the long blue cape, strapping it to his body before sighing. He had to put everything behind him as he put on the plain golden pin on his shoulder. Things weren’t the same anymore. This was something he had to do, for the sake of his homeland, and the people affected by this treachery.

He left the dressing room, finding that Fleur had left, likely to get ready. He was sure he might have upset him by leaving so suddenly, but it was nothing he couldn’t apologize for.

In the hallway, he felt nothing but stares at his back. He felt that it might’ve been the lack of clothing, as Azrulean soldiers wore hardly anything for the sake of better mobility. A thick subligaria was the most common. Those of higher rank wore ones of more expensive materials, typically dyed leather with designs. The thick leather cingulum around his waist had gold plates, a design of the sun engraved upon them. The greaves, shoulder guards and arm guards were of the same matching design. He looked the part of an Azrulean king, save for the missing helmet with the great crest. He doubted they could make such a metal piece in time before their departure anyways.

He was lead out to the courtyards where their party was being prepared, a sum of 300 Feltian men all ready to go in their shining alabaster white armor. Activity in the immediate vicinity ceased for a second when he appeared on the steps, eyes on the armor, the symbols of status, the amount of bare skin he had on display. He did not falter, however. Instead, he went to the group of horses where Isocrates stood.

“Hope your headache isn’t too bad. It’ll be one hell of a ride.” He said to the man who turned around to look at him. He watched brown eyes grow wide.

“And the Veretians say the Akielons wear too little clothing...wow.” said Isocrates with a raised brow. Apollo only chuckled.

“You do. What’s under that skirt of yours? Nothing perhaps?”

“More than your loincloth, that’s for sure.” They shared a good laugh together, talking a little more while they waited for the other three princes to join them. Vien was the first to show, wearing his traditional Dalmat parka, plenty of his skin revealed for all to see. The stares directed towards him stopped when he came and kissed Isocrates dead on the lips. He was very clearly taken Apollo noted with a little smile.

Aein came out next, adorned with enough leather and cloth for two. He was as emotionless as ever with his dull eyes and expression. He talked with another man, likely his captain. Now, all they waited for was Fleur. Apollo hadn’t seen the blonde since just over an hour ago and he briefly wondered if he was alright. 

They were all beginning to mount when Fleur came out, chin high, body straight as a board. He was also dressed in riding leathers, light Feltian armor guarding only what was important. He had a sword at his side and Apollo began wondering now how well the little prince faired with a sword. He remembered then the piece he had requested the archers to take care of. Looking off to where the archers were he saw that Albinet, the boy archer, was approaching with said piece.

The soldier went up to Blanchefleur, who was now mounted, bowing before speaking. The cloth covering the item was removed. Apollo saw the shine of gold, the polished wood gleaming in the morning light. Fleur reacted only the slightest with the widening of tired eyes. The item, a bow, was taken, examined with careful hands. 

Apollo rode up beside Fleur when the archer left, looking over at him with a bit of a smile. “I hope you like it.” He said, watching the prince for a split second reaction. Fleur looked up from the bow, eyes wide.

“When in the world did you get this? You must’ve sent them out last night hadn’t you?” The teen questioned him, a small smile on his lips.

“No...actually I’ve had it with me for a while now...since we left that small town. If you recall me bartering for it.” Eyes lit up with realization.

“I recall.” He replaced the bow that the Feltian’s had given him with the gifted one, placing it into the holster for ready use. “Gratitude. It’s a very nice piece, and well received.” Apollo could see it in Fleur’s eyes that he truly appreciated it.

The retinue was ready to move. Aein was at the head of his army with Blanchefleur and Apollo. Vien and Isocrates were at the head of a small group of Dalmats and some other Wolvane tribe that had come that morning to ride with them across the plains. The gates opened.

The ride through the Feltian city had been full of life and celebration. The Feltian citizens knew what they were fighting for and they wished them well on the war to drive out the intruders in Akielos-Vere. Or as the Feltians and Wolvanians called it, Grá Aontaithe. When asked what it meant, Aein had actually smiled.

“It means love united.” Aein had replied. Fleur smiled a little as well, looking ahead with a renewed aura of confidence.

“I see my parent’s story has spread very far,” said Fleur.

“Indeed, it has. It was incredibly epic, we have had it written in our language, so as to not forget the tale in it’s fuller glory. But as to its accuracy, I do not know how well it faired.”

Through the forest, Fleur told the story he had memorized by heart. The epic unfolding of two Princes fighting for their lives and their rightful place on the throne. The soldier’s close enough to them were practically scandalized by hearing the actual truth of the story. Though, everyone close enough to hear had appreciated hearing the real story, word for word. The books would surely be updated at the end of the war.

Arriving at the end of the forest, ahead they could see blinding golden fields of the plains. It was vast, covered with hills and tall grass, and who knew what else lay beyond. Four riders were sent ahead, not only to scout ahead for any awaiting ambush, but to lead the way and be sure that they would not all go plummeting off into a sinkhole. Aein had said that the Plains were full of such things, and were very dangerous. The landscape was ever changing.

Once the riders returned to stop at the top of the first hill, signaling the coast clear, the retinue began to move. It wasn’t slow like it was through the forests from the tree city. No, it was quick, a canter through the tall grass. According to the Aein, the quicker, the better. They followed along with it.

Apollo took note that the horses they were riding were bred for the endurance needed for this kind of ride. They did come to a walk after a while, letting them catch their breaths, then were back to a canter soon after. The animals took it well, and it was unlike anything Apollo had ever seen before. 

The first few hours of this had been rather uneventful. They followed the riders that were a ways ahead of them, taking the exact turns and swings as they did, likely to avoid any obstructions. Everything was fine.

From behind, a yelp from a man caused heads to turn. Only the person riding beside the person that had yelled had seen just why there was now a riderless horse.

“PRAIRIE DOGS!” someone shouted. Their pace quickened into a gallop.

“Stay with me.” Aein had said to Apollo and Fleur. It seemed they had a plan for when they ran into the raiders, as Aein had broken off from the retinue, going clear off to the opposite end of where the first attack was made and was pushing on faster. Some of the soldiers had broken off with them, likely to act as their guard.

The sounds of metal on metal were the only indicators that there was fighting going on behind them. Apollo took a glance back, seeing that the retinue did not stop to fight. No, they were still moving along as a group, fighting masked riders off from their flanks. 

Aein gasped loudly. Apollo snapped his head to see what for and saw that there was another group headed straight for them ahead of them, and another group to their left. Far more men than they had with them at that moment.

“We are going to have to fight a little bit. Ready yourselves. Whatever you do, do not stop.” Swords were readied, bows aimed and already shooting off towards the raiders, taking them one by one.

The first clash of steel had blood pumping fast. They did as told. They did not stop but were fighting as their horses galloped on. The raiders fought dirty, trying to take out their horses instead of trying to actually fight. Apollo kept close to Fleur’s side knowing he could only do so much with his bow except shoot any oncomers. The prince had a deadly aim, even when riding.

Only minutes passed before the raiders flanking them were taken out. Checking behind, Apollo saw that the retinue had slowed and was stopping. Aein groaned. “Loop back. They only stop for good reason.” He said as he began to turn his horse, never once slowing down. The rest of them did the same.

Coming upon the massive group, they could see that one of the many light wagons trailing behind them had broken down. Soldiers were already making quick work in fixing it.

Apollo saw Aein take a look around. “Did the dogs retreat, or die.”

“They retreated, your highness.”

“Make it quicker, they will return--....” The pause had men looking up, quickly looking in the direction the prince was. Fleur inhaled painfully.

Just beyond on the distant hills, they could easily see a massive moving group coming directly for them.

“LEAVE IT! RIDE!” The Feltian prince yelled as loudly as he could as he wheeled his horse around. He did not wait, neither did anyone else. They were at a gallop once more, flying over the hills. But the group in the distance followed their movements. It was only a matter of time before their horses would begin to tire and give out, or the riders caught up and flanked them. And by the looks of it, they were greatly outnumbered.

“We’ll never beat them!” Apollo yelled to the Feltian prince.

“No, we might not, but we have to keep going! If we stop, we are dead for sure!” Aein had a hardened, frustrated look on his face. No one knew if they would ever make it to Hamar. 

Apollo growled to himself, thinking hard. There had to be a way. There had to be something they could do. Fighting head on was not something they could do, and stopping was suicide. 

Then it clicked. He knew what to do.

“Lend me your archers!” 

The turn of the Feltian’s head should have been enough force to give him a crick in the neck.

“Excuse me? What for?” The prince yelled over the sound of pounding hooves.

“I’ve got a plan! We could never beat them head on, and if we let them get too close, more than half, if not all of us will die! I cannot explain quick enough!” Aein seemed to consider this before nodding. The redhead gave a single-handed gesture in the air, then flicked his wrist off to the right. One by one, archers began to gallop out of their lines, grouping to the right of the retinue.

“I’ll go with you!” Fleur said before Apollo could depart.

“No, you’ve got to keep going! Whatever happens to me, you’ve got to keep going and make it to Hamar! For your country!” He did not stay for Fleur’s answer. He turned off to join the group of Archers and began to gallop for the raiders. Isocrates, Vien, and the Wolvanian’s joined them. He yelled his plan to them, and with a nod, they rode hard.

When they reached a certain distance, a quarter of the group's archers began shooting, being very careful not to miss as they were limited on arrows. And once the first quarter was out, then the next went up. They rotated until they were completely out. 

“Draw your swords! We swing in once, then back out! You get one strike to kill!” He knew the plan was absolutely insane, unconventional, and the likelihood of it working was very slim, but so far, it been working out fairly well. Now was the real test. 

With a breath, Apollo lead them into the first swing. They were galloping in a line, one after the other, a full two horse lengths between each other to give plenty of room. Apollo rode hard, gritting his teeth hard before he took his swing with the sword at the closest man in the raiders massive group. The slice was clean, and the man went down. 

Apollo swung back out, away from the raiders. He glanced back, watching the 30 or so men with him do the same, each successful. Once the last man was at a distance, he began the swing in again. And again after. He couldn’t believe it was working.

“So I was right…” Apollo had mumbled to himself. He had figured that the raiders would likely be heading for only the largest group, as they had the largest amount of supplies. If they stopped to mess with this small group, they would lose the larger retinue.

They had only been successful a few more times before one of their men hadn’t been quick enough and was taken down. They continued on, Apollo determined to kill off as many as they could. But men kept falling.

He couldn’t bring them all to kill themselves continuing on this way. He finally pulled off, grouping up a ways off.

“Isocrates! Return to the retinue with the men.!” He yelled over the sound of thundering hooves on dirt.

Isocrates looked at him with a baffled look. “And what of you! You can’t kill them all by yourself! Don’t be stupid!”

“I know I can’t! But I’ve got to get them off our backs, or everyone dies! I’m not going to get you all killed in order to do it! So I’ll figure something out!”

“Fleur will kill me if I let you do something as stupid as this! Come back with us, we’ll work on it together!” argued Isocrates, his teeth gritted, hands tight on the reins.

“He needs you more than I. You are his brother. Go to him.” No longer willing to argue more, Apollo took off from the group, heading back directly towards the massive moving herd of Prairie Dog Raiders. His horse was tiring out quickly with how much he was pushing it.

“Come on, just a little more. We can’t let them get us.” Apollo thought hard as he tried to figure out a plan. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“God, I need a plan...come on, come on...Think Apolotus….you were once a Captain. You earned it with blood, sweat, and tears. I know you’ve got something…” He tried, willing himself to come up with a plan as he rode right for inevitable death.

He opened his eyes.

“Let’s go. We’re going to stop them, or take most of them to death with us.” He pushed his horse harder, galloping fast over the hill to the band. 

In the distance, he could see the retinue. Fleur was there, likely worried but trying to keep his best facade of aloofness. He wouldn’t hold it long when he realized Apollo would not be coming back. He would hate him, but would cry nonetheless. It was for the best he would be gone though, out of his life so he could move on, live life as intended for him.

Apollo had crashed directly through the lines of the galloping raiders, taking out any man and beast that got in his way. He was cut up from swords, but he did not stop. His horse fell, but he was back on his feet, tearing men from their horses, stabbing them through. 

He was a tempest of blood and fury, as rampant and blood-thirsty as a creature from the deepest depths of hell. Nothing survived the end of his blade. He carved his way through them until the end, to which he killed a man and took his horse, pushing the animal to its limits to keep up his killing spree.

After taking a particularly nasty cut into the arm, he cut down the man before galloping off to the front of the band of raiders with an insatiable thirst for blood. He looked for the man leader. He rode at the front, and was identified by the quality of his clothing. Apollo had caught up just enough to capture his attention. With a war cry, he challenged the man.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

The company eventually came to a halt when they reached the other side of the plains and were deep into the cover of the trees. There was a stream where they let the horses drink, the men washing their faces and cooling off.

Fleur dismounted from his horse, patting the animal for its good work before giving access the stream. A servant came to scoop water into a bowl for him to use, to which he wet his face, cleaning it of the dirt from the ride. After a fresh bowl was scooped for him to drink from, he went off to find his brother and Apollo.

He asked around, trying to find at least an archer, knowing they would have some idea of where they were. They pointed to Isocrates who was standing with Vien. Apollo was nowhere in sight. Fleur approached, brows furrowed together.

“Iso? Where is Apollo?” He inquired, seeing the slight flinch in his brother's reaction. He didn’t let the smallest of reaction lead him on just yet.

Isocrates turned to face him, the expression he carried was plain, though Fleur could see it in his eyes. Deep inside of those amber eyes, he could see what happened. He needed no words.

Bringing his hands up to cover his mouth to keep himself from making a sound. His eyes grew wide, watering at the edges. He shook his head.

“No…” came his quiet muffled voice. “No…” He couldn’t keep the crackling from breaking through. He couldn’t believe it, but the guilt that would not leave his brother’s glazed eyes were a hard truth. He let out a sob.

Warm arms wrapped around him, holding him close as he wept, a hand gently placed on the back of his neck. He remembered the feeling of a strong arm in which he rested his head the night before. The sobs wracked his body harshly, his legs threatening to give out.

“He...He wanted to make sure you made it, and that I would be here for you. He was brave, and loyal to the end…” Isocrates said, voice void of emotion. He too was in mourning but did not let a single tear break from him, nor his voice be breached by sadness.

Fleur pushed back looking up at him with tear-soaked eyes and cheeks, his face hot and red.

“He is not brave, he is a fool! A goddamn...fool…” he let out another shuddering sob before turning away, leaving off to get away from prying eyes. He wanted so greatly to be alone so he could think and come to have some closure. Though, he knew he would not find such a thing so soon. 

Falling to his knees once out of sight, Fleur curled up against a tree and let out a long quivering sob, the tears coming in streams. He felt as though the world begun to burn around him. Thoughts of his parents, his brothers, his kingdom were pushed so far aside. He was disgusted with himself, but he couldn’t stop the tears. Couldn’t stop the pain.

He remained there for a long while, losing track of time completely as he was lost in his thoughts. Isocrates came to retrieve him, telling him they were moving on now. He didn’t move, didn’t speak.

“Come on Fleur, they’re waiting on us.” Nothing. He couldn’t even budge. The pain in his heart had him paralyzed, gaze stuck in an ever empty stare. 

“Blanchefleur.” Isocrates had gripped him, pulling him to his feet. “Get a hold of yourself. We hardly know him. He’s been around but a week. He sacrificed himself for you, as any soldier would. Now let’s move on.” This had Fleur lifting his gaze.

“So he was nothing...is that what you’re saying?”

“No, that’s not--”

“It’s what you meant. I know you’ve never cared for him. Why would you? He didn’t save you. He wasn’t there to hold you when you needed. He didn’t put himself in the line of danger to save your life. No...Of course, you wouldn’t give a damn. I’m just...childish.” Fleur weakly pulled away, heading back to the party. He knew what he sounded like. He knew what it looked like. But he didn’t care. Nothing was going to stop the pain that he felt.

Mounting his horse, he joined Aein’s side and took off, leading at the head. They were only hours from Hamar now. Hours that Fleur spent in silence, brewing in his thoughts, and yet all at the same time, thought of nothing. His body felt numb, even as the day turned to night and the warm spring air grew cold.

There was a great welcoming party for them just a mile from the palace. Fleur had put on a thick mask to hide his sadness. No one knew the better. Anyone that did not know him personally could not see how fake his smile was, how much more stiffly he held himself. 

The walk through the gates had been filled with smiling faces, cheering as they caught the very first glimpses of their Crown Prince. Fleur gave them his best of the fake charm, wishing they would not see the blue empty coldness in his heart. Neither they knew the better.

Coming to the steps to the Hamarian palace, Fleur saw his mother standing at the top. He dismounted his horse and walked up. Like any good prince, he bowed his head in respect. Karla had pulled him close in an embrace.

“I am so glad you are alright. This has been a terrible thing to happen. I am still in disbelief.” said Karla. Fleur nodded looking up at her. He knew she would see the sadness in his eyes, the broken soul deep down. And she had, mistaking it for grief for his family and country. It was, but the pain above all of that was far worse. 

‘And selfish…’ Fleur had thought to himself. ’I am selfish. Mourning a soldier over my own parents. Pathetic.’

Karla brought him inside to have a private sit down with him, to talk about what had happened. “How did you escape?” She had asked, her brown eyes full of concern. She every right to be, as she was still his mother. Maternal instincts were not something she was beyond.

“A man...a soldier took me. He helped me to escape the walls, and helped greatly to get me here.” Fleur sat straight, eyes lowered to the floor. He felt so uncomfortable, wanting desperately to retire then and there.

“Where is the man? I want to thank him personally for keeping my son safe. Is he a Veretian? Akielon?” 

Fleur felt his facade cracking. He wasn’t going to last much longer. “A most...noble Azrulean. He...he died just hours ago to get us here. He sacrificed himself...time and time again for us. For me.” His voice croaked just the slightest. He no longer wanted to speak, fearing his voice would continue to betray him. 

“An Azrulean soldier saved you? But they were the invaders. That does not make any sense. But... I suppose we are indebted to a soul now. I am glad you are safe, Blanchefleur.” His mother was looking at him, but he could not look up. He could not let her see the pain in his eyes while they talked about Apollo.

“I am glad to be alive...and here. We are going to form an army and take my home back. They will pay for this. All of it.” The words felt dry inside his mouth, feeling like he didn’t mean any other them. He could not muster the venom as he normally could. 

“May I retire? It has been a long journey.” He asks, finally looking up now that he changed the subject.

“Of course. Sleep well. Get as much rest as you can. I will see what I can do for you in the meantime.” His mother replied, both of them standing. Karla hugged him once more before having a servant lead him to his quarters. His stomach felt knotted.

Fleur shooed everyone from his rooms, wanting to be entirely alone. He pulled his clothes slowly from himself until he stood bare in front of the massive mirror. He looked at himself blankly, over every curve and line. His hand slip down over his side, to his hip, then dropped. 

The tears threatening to spill over just minutes ago were returning, falling down his cheeks in large wet streaks. He let out a struggled sob as he fell to his knees, arms wrapped himself.

“You fool…” He cried to an empty room. “You stupid...stupid idiot…”

_He stared at the wall, feeling humiliated and self-conscious of his figure. He’d always know he was a bit more on the chunky side. But the fact that he couldn’t even fit into a proper corset was an embarrassment. The amount of shame he felt was great._

_“Come now, Blanchefleur. Don’t be difficult. You...you looked very cute.” He’d heard Apollo say. It made him relax only the slightest, but then he figured the other was just saying it so they could get a move on. No man could be trusted for this sort of thing. They wouldn’t understand._

_He felt a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him to turn around. He kept his head turned, not wanting to even look at the man. He was afraid that if he did look at him, he would begin to fall for the deceit._

_“Look at me.” came Apollo again. He still did not look. The hand on his shoulder already made him feel so weak, so when he felt calloused fingers under his chin, he did not resist their pull. He looked up at the man. “You’re beautiful.” He felt like his knees could give out right there._

 

A loud cry escaped him, his body shaking, fingers digging into his arms. He felt so alone, though he knew he could have someone there at his side at a whim. His mother and brother were here. Three of his home’s finest archers. A cousin. A Feltian that had spent time in private with him, picking him apart, allowing him to confide in him. But even so, he still felt like he was at the bottom of a dark ravine, fumbling about with no direction, no guidance.

_The terror, no matter how horrifying it was, kept its grasp on him. He could not wake, though he felt hot, like he’d been dropped into a boiling pool of water that scorched his skin. He wanted out but could find no exit. No way to leave the nightmare he hadn’t wished for, the scenes he wished he did not have to imagine. Life was being drained from him as each second passed, gruesome scenes, screaming, blood. Familiar faces. He wanted to cry out, but even when he tried, no sound came._

_His body was shaking violently, a deathly grip on him by foreign hands. He fought uselessly to free himself, but could not escape._

_His eyes snapped open after a while, vision cloudy, everything around him was dark. But when he was finally able to focus, he saw a pair of concerned blue eyes looking at him. A face he knew looking so unsure of what to do._

_Fleur couldn’t keep the sobs from coming to him. They quieted, however, when strong arms pulled him close, holding him tightly. Apollo was warm, his large frame comforting in a way that reassured nothing would harm him. Fleur took that comfort, nuzzling in the man’s broad chest, hands gripping tightly onto his shirt as he cried hard._

He’d fallen asleep on Apollo that night, so he did not know if the man had remained awake until then. He imagined Apollo, sword in hand, fighting off any other nightmares that might have been coming his way, not allowing them to enter into his sleep again. 

The thought of it had him screaming silently at the floor, watching through bleary eyes as a puddle of his tears gathered there. His soldier was gone. He was not here any longer to fight off his fears, fight the ever-present war raging within him. No more lifting of his chin, or gentle touches on the shoulder, or dancing like they were the only ones in the room, or laughing till breathless. Those were things he could only have once.

He did not know when or how, but he eventually found himself in his bed, curled up under the covers. The large bed felt far more vast than it was, empty and wasteful, and yet sleep was still finding him to his surprise. His face felt so puffy, his eyes unable to stay open any longer. Sleep did not come without retribution. The nightmares began as soon as his mind slipped from consciousness. No one was there to wake him from it this time.

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

The pounding of wood some hours later had woken him, having him looking around feeling rather disoriented. 

“What is it.” He called, resting back in his bed while he rubbed his eyes. The sound of the door opening echoed through the high-ceiling room. It was a soldier.

“Prince Blanchefleur, it’s urgent. It is requested you come immediately.” This had the prince sitting up now, blanket still held close to his body. 

“What’s happened?” He asked, ready to jump from his bed if it were about his brother or mother. Hell, even if it were the cousin he hardly knew or the Feltian prince.

“The Azrulean--” Fleur raised a hand, stopping the man from speaking any more.

“Wait outside. I will dress.” When the door closed, he jumped out of bed, wanting to put on whatever was quickest. He wished a robe would do, but it would not be proper if others saw him. Pants and a loose undershirt were quickly pulled on, boots barely on as he left the room. “Take me. Now.”

They made quick timing, Fleur eventually asking where to go when he grew too impatient. He began to run, not caring when his lungs burned, his legs growing weak. When he reached the door, he hardly let himself catch his breath before entering. It was the closest room to the main entrance of the palace, likely the first place they could reach. He saw the stains of blood and dirt trailed over the floor before he came in.

He was met with physicians scattering about the room, surrounding the bed where a massive body lay. Few stopped when Fleur entered but continued on with their work. 

The prince sat off to the side in a chair, waiting until most of the physicians cleared away. He sat there still, staring at the bed ahead of him, unsure. Was it truly him? What was the possibility of it? He supposed there was only one way to find out.

Standing slowing, he began to make his way over, eyes trained on the form laying there. A large chest rose and fell slowly, a gentle sigh making the prince pause for a split second. When he finally reached the bed, he finally saw just how much damage was done. Stitches on the forehead holding a shallow but wide wound closed, a few small cuts here and there on the stubbled cheeks of the man. Any dirt that had been there was now wiped away cleanly by the physicians. 

After evaluating the wounds, he finally looked at the face. It was him. It truly was Apolotus of Azrule. The man that saved his life time and time again. The man he’d cried over so hard that he still felt the ache in his head.

“Apollo…” Fleur whispered. He sat gently on the bed next to the man, watching him as he slept. His hand reached out, pushing back the sweat soaked hair, caressing down the man’s temple and cheek. He felt the scraping of short thick hairs along the man’s jaw under his palm. He was warm and very much alive.

He did not know how long he sat there, but eventually, there was grunt from the man, his eyes beginning to open. Fleur did not remove his hand from where it came to rest on the soldier’s bare chest, right over his heart. Blue eyes did not waiver from where they stared at the ceiling for a long while, the man likely trying to orient himself.

“Apollo,” Fleur said again, louder now so the man could hear him. His hand was smoothing over a stubbled face once more, his thumb sliding over a cheekbone.

Apollo slowly looked at him, squinting just a bit before a tiny smile began to spread over dry lips. “Fleur...Are you alright…” He’d asked, earning a ridiculous smile and shake of the head from Fleur.

“You idiot. Because of you, I am. Also because of you, I’ve made a fool of myself in front of my mirror...crying about your moronic way of doing things.”

The man chuckled a little before cringing in pain. Fleur frowned.

“What happened out there...just what did you do. There was no way you could have killed them all off.”

“On the contrary...I did. In a way.” Apollo said weakly before coughing, the pained look on his face remaining until the pain likely died down to something more bearable. “I challenged their leader...I expected at least fight from him. It was pathetic. Like fighting a barely coherent toddler.” He coughed again before relaxing, his breathing shaky.

“Relax...So you killed their leader? And then what?” 

Apollo took a moment to breathe before answering, “They attacked me...I killed them. I guess it’s rather intimidating...when you kill off over one hundred men single-handedly...and beg for more. Perhaps that is just an Azrulean thing to do?”

Fleur raised a brow, feeling rather impressed by the feat, but not entirely surprised. “Well, you are stupidly large in every way. And stupidly stupid to do such a thing.” Fleur smiled at the man, as he continued to caress his face in a caring manner.

“Well, my stupidity didn’t come without its rewards...one of them did get a sword through me. It was when I didn’t fall that they began to fall back. I couldn’t understand what they were yelling, but I could probably imagine. I’m surprised... I even made it back. I don’t remember any of the ride here.”

They both shared a bit of a chuckle.

“I’m...so glad to have lived to see you smile again...” the man confessed, his eyes closing, voice fading off. Fleur figured his energy had run thin from their small talk.

“And I am glad to have you alive,” Fleur replied. He did not leave when the Apollo drifted back off to sleep. No, instead, the prince removed his boots and laid beside him, careful of the other’s injuries. Sleep found him once more, but it was no longer filled with the anxiety of having to wake up without Apollo at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments?  
> Also, more to come about all these new little tribes and peoples very soon. <3


	14. Deep End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A helping hand for a dire cause should have never been so much trouble. But a jealous heart is still green, no matter the circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -///-  
> I am a torn bugger.
> 
> Consider supporting me, so I can continue doing what I do <3 Even the smallest bit can make a big difference for me <3 https://ko-fi.com/N4N1AOF0

The next morning, Fleur had nearly been physically dragged from Apolotus’ room by Isocrates to get him to join for breakfast. The Hamarian court had been expecting to see their Crown Prince, so he was being forced to attend. 

Fleur grumbled a bit as he was being dressed into proper Patran clothing, which fit rather comfortably. He did not complain about it, rather liking the free movements it allowed. And it’s colors, shades of roses and greens, his favorites. 

The ladies in charge of making him presentable cooed over his hair, complimenting its silky softness and length. It took a while to figure out just what they wanted to do with it, to which Fleur explained a few different types of styles he liked. The design they ended up with was extravagant with hair roses, knots, and braids, complete with a golden circlet with a single opal gem at its center, rubies encrusted around it.

Lifting his chin as he looked in the mirror one last time, he nodded before leaving, being lead to the banquet hall where breakfast was being held for the many guests. When the doors were opened for him, every eye turned to look at him. His form was perfect, held straight and tall. He walked with such grace, a dozen books could be balanced on his head and would not fall.

Whispers were made, faces lighting up upon seeing him. His beauty had not been exaggerated, as he heard many say.

Walking through the hall with talk of him had been the least nerve-racking to what he felt when finally saw the man at the head of the table. The Hamarian King, his grandfather. The man was rather older, likely somewhere in his seventies, but looked to be in very good health. He seemed pleased to see his grandson for the very first time, and Fleur was not about to ruin it.

With a practiced poise, Fleur performed a balanced curtsey, then bowed to take the King’s hand and kiss the jewel on his middle finger, as was the custom when meeting for the King for the first time.

“King Kaspar of Hamar...Grandfather.” Fleur greeted a warm smile on his face. The man nodded to him, a smile on his thin lips.

“My grandson, Blanchefleur. I am so glad to finally meet you. You have grown to be a fine young man. And surely just as sharp, or so I have heard.” The man had the proudest look etched on his wrinkled face, clearly happy that his grandson turned out so wonderfully.

“The courtiers take their time to think about their responses addressed to me, to avoid burning,” Fleur answered, the King let out a bellow of a laugh.

“Ah, that is what I like to hear. Smart enough to hold his own and keep others on their toes. Very good. Sit down, son. Let us enjoy this meal and talk more after our bellies are full.” A cheer followed the king's announcement.

King Kaspar was served first, then it went down the line. While Fleur waited for his plate to be placed before him, he caught the eye of a boy sitting across from him. He had striking blue eyes and golden hair. He looked to be somewhere around Fleur’s age and had the proper manner that someone of very high standing would have held. Like a prince.

He wondered then why he sat so close to the head of the table. Was he visiting? Likely not as he sat beside his mother and not the king, as visiting royalty normally would. He would have had traded seats with Karla. He was not new to the table, as no one seemed to pay him too much mind. 

Fleur saw Karla look directly at him, her eyes boring holes into him as if she were waiting for him to look at her. His eyes remained on the other teen a bit longer before looking at his mother. 

Karla smiled when she finally had his attention. “This is Thurstan. He is fifteen years old and has been staying with us since his birth. A friend of mine died and left him behind with no one to care for him. You can think of him as a brother.”

The word struck a chord with Fleur and he looked to Thurstan once more. A once over was made before looking his directly in the eye. The teen had fair skin, a sharp jawline that would surely only become sharper as he grew into manhood. By all means, he was very handsome and was likely rather tall. Fleur did not get to further observe when his plate was set before him, but he would surely continue on later.

Fleur nearly did a double take when he saw the plate before him. It was filled with cheese, fruits, and vegetables, and a hearty sized piece of cooked salmon, likely caught that morning. He was not used to having so much food on his plate, at least not since he was a child. 

Apparently, the look on his face had his mother rather amused. “Is it too much?” She’d asked, a smile on her face. “It’s rather common, not everyone is used to eating so much. You do not have to finish it all.” 

Fleur looked everyone else's plates and saw that they too had full plates. The boy felt like he was in heaven.

“It...makes sense now why I’ve always had quite the appetite.” Fleur decided to say. “I refrained often…” He said the last part quietly, just loud enough for his mother and grandfather to hear. Karla looked at him with great concern.

“Well don’t you feel that way here. Eat, enjoy. Here, food is everything.” She’d said. 

Fleur couldn’t have felt more at home than he did now. Nothing stopped him from digging right in and finishing off the entire plate. He saw his family look on with satisfaction when the plate was practically cleaned of food.

When he was finished, he talked to the others about the diplomacies in Akielos-Vere, and how the joint country would have been taking on a single name very soon, but would likely be postponed due to this tragedy.

The conversation eventually shifted when the table was cleared, Isocrates, Vien, and Aein being moved closer to discuss as well. Talk of alliances came up, Aein being the first to speak up.

“When I heard from the Dalmats what happened to Grá Aontaithe, I thought of my dearest friend who lived there. I could not let invaders run amuck in a good country. This is why I have gathered my forces to help.”

Everyone was pleased with the answer. It was then shifted to Vien. Vien smiled.

“My mother told me of the news that the kingdom had been taken, but that they know two had escaped. We trailed them and found that it was my cousin. It was after a few days of trailing them that we got word from the Feltians that they wished to help. By then, I had already made up my mind to bring them to my home to assist. My mother was glad to send warriors for the cause.”

The king smiled a bit more at this. “How does fair my daughter? I have not seen her since you were born in the rivers just inside the border of Wolvane.” He asked.

Fleur was curious to hear more about his cousin and his tribe of wolf-like peoples. Perhaps he could squeeze a bit more out of the conversation when the time came.

“She is well. We have been dealing with a rather troublesome outsider tribe lately, but it is nothing she cannot handle, as you know.” 

Kaspar was smiling greatly at this. “She is much like her own mother. Strong and resilient. Nothing could have taken her down until she was done.”

Karla looked to Fleur, the two exchanging looks, Fleur’s more of a questioning look. “Ah right. I’ve never gotten to write to you about your ancestry.” She’d said to him.

“Well, Vien filled me in a little about it. Something along the lines of a Dalmat queen having some fun with a Hamarian prince some forty years ago, and well, what do you know. Here we are.”

The group was chuckling in good fun, especially the king.

“Ah yes. Aukusti was a rare one. I met her while on a hunt when I was just a young man. She knocked me from my horse, a spear to my throat. One of my men had gotten her in the leg with an arrow, but she was hardly affected by it. Yanked it out like one would a splinter. She had me on the ground with hardly a problem. I swear, she ripped my heart from my chest that day.” 

Fleur was so engaged in the story, his eyes wide, a little smile on his lips. He always did love a good story. Especially a true one.

“I sought her out time and time again. And I never could get her on the ground. It was always me with dirt on my back. Which, after a while, hadn’t been a bad thing. I was a foolish man to think that Aukusti was like any normal man. I did not know how the Wolvanians truly were, with their unknown bodies and customs. But I was not displeased when I found out. Quite the opposite actually. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other after that first time. And what do you know, I found out I was to be a father not long after.” The man had such a fond look on his old face as if he was remembering the best days of his life.

“She gave me a daughter and a son. Now two daughters, after Vien was born from Suomis. And I could never have been more grateful to have been knocked on my back.” 

Fleur saw that Isocrates was not at all surprised, which he took as that the two had been together already before hearing this. Fleur, however, was not yet satisfied and wanted to know more about it.

“I don't quite understand the workings of the Dalmats. I realized that there were very few...er..women. But there are many children, surely not all from those few women.” Fleur inquired, making it easy to sound like a question without ever having to actually ask.

“Ah,” began Vien. “Well, like everything else about us, something deep in our ancestry has come to bring us to be like this. We have three sexes among our people. Men, women, and men that become women, to translate our word for it. The genders of men and women do not normally change. However, the men that change to women only change after they have had a child. Usually. It’s a custom well followed, but not enforced. We are openminded peoples. We even have those without gender”

“Okay...about these men that change to women...explain. I just don’t understand it. Their anatomy…” Fleur pushed on, his eyebrows still raised.

Isocrates had the smallest of smiles on his normally stoic face. Vien glanced at him, smiling much larger before he began to speak. “A lot like women...we have the parts to conceive and give birth. In front of it, however, we also have a…” Unlike before, Vien seemed to be careful of the words he used, as he was in front of more proper company. Fleur noted that indeed, Vien was very self-aware.

“Cock.” Fleur finished for him, looking rather bored, eyelids lowered in a most unamused way about beating around the bush. He had no problems saying it around anyone. Kaspar chuckled at this, Karla making a slight movement, probably very close to hiding her face with her hand.

“Yes. Thank you, Fleur. It is just as a man’s is, replacing the woman's much shorter pleasure spot. Essentially the same as it, used to please and have pleasure, but not to give seed.” 

Fleur nodded now in understanding. “I see. The Dalmats are indeed a wonder. Is there anything else to know? I am a very curious soul to know more of my cousin's tribe.”

Kaspar was once again looking very pleased about Fleur’s inquiries. Likely because his many questions meant he was acute and mindful. These were his allies after all. The more he knew, the better.

Vien was also rather happy about Fleur’s curiosity. “We, who can give birth only fuck those that we would like to have the seed of, in case of an accident. And said accident is never truly an accident, but a blessing.”

Isocrates blinked hard at this, his eyes widening just the slightest in realization before glancing to Vien. Of course, the Dalmat prince only smiled, not giving him the pleasure of looking back at him. Fleur was rather amused by this.

The conversation went on, moving from a few other smaller, insignificant topics, then everyone began to disburse. 

Isocrates came to Fleur before he could stand. “Hey, I heard he came back last night. Is he okay?”

Blanchefleur was a bit surprised to hear his brother even ask about Apollo. The two had never been too fond of each other, so it was just a bit shocking.

“Well, he was last night and he was asleep when you came to get me, but I’m sure he is.”

“What happened? Did he tell you anything?”

Fleur nodded as he stood. “Walk with me.” 

The two slowly began to make their way down the hall, Fleur sighing before he began. “He’s not as tore up as I had been expecting. As I’m sure anyone was expecting. He said that he challenged their leader, killed him, then killed one hundred men before they retreated.”

Isocrates stopped dead, looking on at Fleur, who turned to look back at him.

“Excuse me, but what. He killed their leader and one hundred of those mongrels? How did….I...I don’t understand. There is no possibility. No one man could possibly…”

“But he did. I believe him. How else would he have made it back alive? They wouldn’t have just let him off with a stab wound and let him ride back here. You saw how ruthless they were.”

Isocrates was shaking his head, looking off into the distance of the hall as he ran fingers through his curly hair.

“Impossible…”

“Have you seen the man? He’s a big as Papa is. Not to mention once a captain. Not just any man gets to be a captain, and you know that as well as anyone.”

His brother nodded as he seemed to connect it all together. It was starting to make sense. “I suppose you are right. He is massive. And well trained.”

“And unbelievably strong.”

“Okay, don’t push it you horny little shit.” They laughed as they continued on to Apolotus’ room.

“You two have a really obvious...attraction. And somehow, it seems a though you have known each other forever. You connect well.” Isocrates eventually said, sounding as if he were admitting to something he really had not wanted to. But he truly meant it, and Fleur appreciated it.

“We do...but it is a fruitless endeavor.” Came Fleur, dryly.

This had Isocrates looking at him with a confused frown. “And why is that?”

“Because at the end of this campaign and our kingdom is ours once more, he is going to leave. When he kills his king, as Aein mentioned, Apolotus will become King. He cannot stay...and I cannot go with him.” Though he did not outwardly sound saddened by it, he felt as such. It was a thought he kept from his mind until it was something he had to cross.

“I see...that would be difficult.”

“Why? Did you want him as your brother?” Fleured asked, an eyebrow raised playfully.

“Absolutely not. That behemoth does not belong in this household. Papa  
would have a field day with him, and you know it.”

“He already is going to when he hears of what has happened involving him. You better promise me you won’t let him kill Apolotus.” Fleur realized he was now assuming his parents were still alive. He didn’t want to think otherwise, and it seemed neither did Isocrates.

“I don’t think that beast of a man will have any problems….but sure, maybe I’ll throw in a word for him. He’s kept you alive so far with his stupidity.”

When they arrived at the room, Fleur turned to Isocrates. “Do you want to see him? I can wait out here.” Though he knew the two did not get along all too well at the beginning, they seemed to be much more friendly towards each other.

Isocrates looked to the door silently, nodding before going inside. A funny feeling in Fleur’s stomach began to flutter, and he figured it was because his brother was finally coming around to Apolotus. 

What could he call Apolotus? Were they just friends? Were they even that? What did you call knowing someone for a week, but feeling as if you’ve known them forever?

An acquaintance of course. He didn’t truly know Apolotus. But gods did he ever want to. He wanted to know him, all of him. Fleur sighed, leaning against the wall as he waited. 

Minutes later, Isocrates exited the room, smiling at him before nodding to the room. “He’s waiting for you.”

Blanchefleur nodded, smiling back.

“What will you be doing?” He asked. There was plenty to be done in preparation for the upcoming war, and he knew he should have been heading out with him. But it would do him no good if his mind was elsewhere.

“I’m going to oversee training. Your mother told me last night that they were recruiting people to be sent. They’re going to need a lot of training, so Vien and I were going to begin it.” 

“Oh, I see. I’ll come out in a while to help with planning,” said Fleur.

Isocrates shook his head, smiling. “Not necessary. Training is most important right now. Our key ticket will be him” He nodded to the door, speaking of Apolotus. “I spoke to him about it. When he is well enough, you and he will join us to begin our plans. Till then, just...focus on him.”

Fleur raised a brow at this.

“Focus on him? What do you mean by that?”

“People heal faster when they’re...uh...close to the ones they...like.” Isocrates blushed a bit, looking away. “Anyways, when he’s ready, let me know.” 

His brother left down the hall. He blushed hard when he was completely alone, face hot when he realized that even his own brother said it.

“Dammit, no. No no. Don’t you fall for this. Don’t get into it too deeply. He doesn't love you. He just cares. Isocrates doesn’t know anything.” When he finally calmed down, he walked into the room. 

Apollo lay right where he’d left him, only now his sheets had been changed, likely because of the blood seeping from bandages. The covers were folded over and rested at the man's waist, hiding the bandaging of his stab wound. His chest was bare, save for the bandages wrapped around his right shoulder. He looked to not only be with fresh sheets, but he himself freshly washed as well. 

The man lay there awake, eyes tiredly resting towards the window. Nothing could be seen but a few reflected rays of light.

Fleur sat on the bed beside Apollo, looking at him as he waited for him to return the gaze. Slowly but surely, the man turned his head and looked. 

“Fleur.” The soldier greeted, smiling a little.

“Apollo. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been asked that question a dozen too many times today.” He chuckled just the slightest. “I mean, it’s just a couple stab wounds.”

“Just?” Fleur couldn’t help but smile. This man really was some kind of animal.

“They aren’t even so bad. Cut my fat open. A little cut on my shoulder. Nothing at all.”

“The fever you had last night said otherwise.” A delicate hand lifted to smooth back freshly washed brown hair. “They didn’t do too good of a job with cleaning your hair. Then again, it’s not like you could have bathed properly like this.”

“I cannot wait until I can. I’d much prefer other not touching me like they have been for such purposes. I don’t know how you handle others washing you.” 

Fleur laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t. I have not let anyone wash me since I was but nine years old. Before then, it had only been my father. I’ve been a very picky child of who I let around me naked.”

He heard Apollo gulp rather loudly, averting his eyes.

“Have you eaten?” Fleur decided to ask to ease the man a bit from his teasing.

“I tried.” Apollo glanced at the tray on the side of the bed, Fleur just barely realizing he hadn’t noticed it before. The tray was a bit of a mess where the bowl of yogurt sat, a spoon covered with the stuff sat next to the bowl. “Bastards just had to put my dominant arm out of commission.”

Fleur looked on before pulling the tray closer so he could easily reach it. He cleaned the handle of the spoon before scooping more of the cool creaminess. The spoon was held to Apolotus’ lips, who looked a little unsurely at it before he opened for it. Fleur watched him eat before scooping more onto the spoon, doing it once more. Neither spoke, continuing on until the entire tray was clear. Fleur stole a few bites of the fruit for himself for compensation.

The tray was taken by a servant and they were left alone once more. Apollo gazed at Fleur with unsure eyes, half-lidded and tired once more.

“Thank you... I was...too embarrassed to ask for a servant to do it.”

“Not embarrassed for me to do it?” Fleur asked.

Apollo blushed, looking away. “...Not..particularly.”

“Perhaps I should clean you as well.” The teen teased before he moved to crawl onto the other side of the bed, making himself comfortable as he laid down beside the man.

“I’ll let you do my hair.” Apollo’s gaze had followed him, now looking at him, head craned enough that part of his face now hid in the comfort of his pillow. Fleur reached to touch his jaw.

“And give you a shave...Though, I do rather like it. Very rugged.”

 

⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

A week passed before Apollo was finally well enough to leave his bed and not come close to blacking out. Isocrates traded off with Fleur sometimes with Apollo’s recovery, actually spending more and more time with him, even joining in the small walks outside of the man’s room, not just to help, but for the company.

Fleur felt very happy when he saw the two getting along so well now. He wondered briefly how things would be when they finally got to go home and rejoin their parents. How well would Damocles take to him? And Papa? Father was the least likely to attempt to maul him. What about Uncle Nik?

All of these thoughts crossed his mind on the daily, but at the end of the day, he had to remind himself that this was just brief. Apolotus would not stay. And even so, Fleur could not stop the thoughts from coming.

On the day that Apollo finally got to see the light of day outside of the palace, overseeing the training of recruits with Fleur, they received a letter.

“What is it?” Apollo had asked him, looking at the letter. On it was a seal Fleur was very familiar with. He opened it quickly. 

“A response...from the man I spoke of before that could lend us help.”

“What does he say?” 

“He parts to arrive here two days hence of sending this letter. He will be here soon.” Fleur parted from Apolotus to speak with his grandfather about the arrangement. They prepared for the arriving of yet another prince joining in their cause.

That night, Fleur filled Apollo in on who the prince was.

“You might have heard of him. His country is closer to yours than mine. He is the second son of Artebānu of Perasia. Prince Āturpāt.”

Apollo looked on in thought before nodding. “Yes, I do recall him. He and his father had come to visit about a year ago, on a business of trade.”

“Ah. Yes, that is the same reason they came to us nearly six years ago. I wasn’t particularly fond of the eldest son...what was his name…? Orophat? Orophorn?”

“Oropherne.” Apollo corrected him.

“Yes, him. He’s your age now I believe. Perhaps a year younger. He tried his best to sway me into liking him. I did not. I did not, and still do not, like people who try so hard to please me just so I would like them. It is rather annoying. Āturpāt was not like that. In fact, I got to really know him when I saw him sneaking out of an indoor event. He argued with me right from the start of it. Caught me in a lie. I rather enjoyed his presence. The thrill of our quick discussions, points, and counterpoints. He had me on my toes unlike any other.” 

Fleur had found himself smiling rather fondly, which had Apollo straightening up. “So, he is coming to help us? The Perasians are not easy to sway into joining a cause. He must really be fond of you.” Fleur heard the change in Apollo’s tone. He did not sound pleased in the least.

“Yes...he is coming. We’ve been writing to each other for years now. We’ve been good friends since his visit.” said Fleur

“I see. Well, hopefully, he brings enough soldiers to actually be of some assistance.” Apollo had a tone of bitterness, one of which that had Fleur grinding his teeth just the slightest.

“He will be. Are you going to be so sour when he arrives as well? I do not understand why you act like this is such a burden? Do you not like him? Has he done something on his visit to offend? It is best to speak now.” Fleur said firmly, not wanting to dance around the subject. He wanted everything out on the table.

“No. He’s done nothing. And I am not bitter.”

“Your tone says otherwise. I am not deaf, Apolotus. What is it?”

The soldier turned his head to look at the teen, eyes narrowed a bit. “It’s nothing.”

“ _Do not lie to me_. Are you jealous that he is my friend? Is that it?”

“No. I am hardly jealous. He means nothing to me.”

“But I mean something to you. Obviously, or you wouldn’t still be here.” Fleur, who was already sitting up, now got onto his knees on the bed, scooting closer until he plopped down right beside Apollo’s legs. “You’re jealous.”

Apollo looked away, remaining quiet for a moment, eyes narrow as he seemed to be contemplating thoughts. “I do not care for the fondness you speak about him. He is strange and does not speak much. I do not trust him. I also do not see your appeal in him whatsoever.” he then said, still looking away.

Fleur, at that moment, could feel the fluttering feeling fill him once more. He did not know what it was still, but he accepted the strange feeling. Apollo was jealous, at least in some way. 

“He was unlike any other man I’ve met. Well...at the time he was still just a boy, as was I. But, he treated me as an equal, even though I was four years younger than him. He kept me focused, enthused, enthralled. I never felt...more alive than I did when I met him. Then when we played a highly dangerous game against each other in the games. Then all those discussions we would have. Not even I, who avoided any and all affections, no matter how well written, or thought out they were, could have prepared for him.”

All while he explained, he could see Apollo’s stiff shoulders slowly slip down, a look of defeat slowly surfacing over his face. He still would not look at Fleur.

“You two..would be good together then. You’re as sharp as a new blade. Fitting for him, who is the same when he does speak.” Apollo spoke, voice lowered. Fleur knew he struck a chord somewhere deep. Even though the man tried to turn Fleur away from him at every turn for the sake of the future, he was still human. He still felt something for him, and it would still hurt.

“Perhaps,” said Fleur. This was what the other had wanted. He told him over and over that he would find someone, and now they had come to the point of realization that he already had.

Though the air was tense between them, Fleur still slept beside Apollo those next few nights.But the morning that Āturpāt was to arrive, Fleur left early to ready himself. The two hadn’t been talking much since that night, and neither really expected that to change now with the arrival of the Perasian prince. 

Fleur stood on the steps of the palace when the gates opened for the arriving army, Apollo joining him just before the massive retinue entered. Fleur glanced at him before back to the gates.

“I’m surprised you even showed. I half expected to go straight to the training field to begin,” said Fleur, quietly.

“I need him just as much as you do to get what I want.”

“Oh, so now you want something? You don’t want to just take over to right the wrongs? Interesting. I never took you as the man to actually want power. You think you know a man.”

Apollo said nothing, merely staring ahead. A horse heavy with an embellished saddle and rider rode up, and by the color of the silks and the fashion of dress, it could have only been one person.

The man dismounted before coming up to steps. Blanchefleur stepped forward, raising a hand out to which the man took, kissing his knuckle before smiling just the slightest.

“Prince Blanchefleur. We meet once more,” said Āturpāt, coming up the final step to stand with him. Āturpāt, now 19, was far taller, growing well into the body of a man with a deeper voice to match. His features, though were hardly a comparison to his brother’s six years before, were now sharp and handsome. His gaze was keen and intelligent, though when they looked at Fleur they were full of admiration as well.

“Indeed, we do. Six years later, nearly. Though, not as we had likely planned.” said Fleur

“Never like this. But as you know, I am glad to assist. It is terrible what has happened…” Āturpāt glanced off to the side from Fleur, likely upon noticing Apollo. “And what is one of _them_ doing here.”

Fleur did not turn to look at him as he spoke. “This is what I wished to talk about face to face about. He is the one that saved me. He took from the walls and make a wild scramble to get me as far away as possible.” he explained, looking rather solemn.

“I see. I recognize him. The Azrulean King’s right-hand man. His captain some years ago. I do not understand why a man so loyal would suddenly break away like that. It is very suspicious.”

“Isn’t it? Though, I have spent an entire week with him. And at any of those points, he could have overpowered and taken me where he needed to. But instead...he has remained at my side...defended me at all costs, which included his own life. More than once.”

Āturpāt’s eye’s had yet to waver from Apollo, and likely the same for the soldier. Though, Fleur wondered just how the man would gaze back at a royal blood prince that was not Blanchefleur.

“So you use him as your own captain to take back from his people? He could turn on you then. I do not trust this Fleur.” said Āturpāt, expressing a tone of great concern.

“Then do not trust him. Trust me. But either way, he is being treated as a prince of Azrule, and I expect as much respect. From both of you.” His voice grew louder at the end, making it very clear to them both. “Now let us go inside, breakfast should be awaiting us.” 

⚚⚚⚚⚚

The next few days were spent pouring over maps, planning out the best advantages and routes. Āturpāt and Apollo only ever spoke to each other when it came to planning, but that was as close as they came to interaction. When they were not leaning over maps and sand trays, Fleur was catching up with the Perasian prince, taking walks in the Hamarian gardens at his side. Fleur would occasionally catch the glimpse of a fluttering blue cape just inside of the palace, but he’d quickly look back to the man beside him.

This went on for most of the week, neither Fleur nor Apollo seeing much of each other, except at dinner. However, there were even times that Apollo would not even show for meals either.

Fleur spent one night out in the gardens after dinner, the only light being the full moon. The stress of what was to come in two fortnights taking its toll on him. Fresh air and some time alone was all he wanted. 

The night was nice, a breeze from the ocean blowing in, caressing long golden hair and loose clothing. It was only slightly cool out, feeling rather good on the skin. Fleur sighed as he wandered the stone paths, trying to clear his thoughts if only for a while.

He began to hum to himself a tune he recalled his papa singing to him. It had been one of his favorites for so long, a story of a young warrior who fought and fought for freedom, eventually losing himself to doubt because no matter how much he fought, he seemed to get nowhere. But for the life him, Fleur could not recall the ending of the story. He supposed that he always fell asleep before hearing the end of it.

After a while, he sat on a marble bench, staring up at the starry sky. He knew that somewhere out there, his family was alive, watching the same sky as him. Perhaps they thought he was long gone, dead along with his brother. He smiled a bit at the thought.

“I know you’re out there somewhere...and you don’t know it yet, but I’m coming with an army behind me. I don’t care what I must do. I will get you back, and I will bring any man that gets in my way to his knees. I am no prince worthy to rule, but I am also not one to give up. Just hold out...for a little longer...wherever you are.”

The breeze picked up more, blowing in a warm gust that felt much like an embrace. It had to have been a sign.

Fleur was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind him. His eyes had closed at some point, likely from imagining seeing his family once again, he did not see someone sitting next to him. Instead, he felt the presence at his side and looked over.

It was Apolotus, dressed in Patran evening clothes, leaning casually so his forearms rested on his thighs. He did not say anything, nor did he look at Fleur. He was simply there. 

Fleur did not say anything either, looking back up to the sky again. Clouds could be seen moving in from the west. If it rained, it would dampen their grounds and progress for training. 

“I pray it does not rain,” Apollo said as if reading Fleur’s mind. “It would not do to wait much longer to begin our attack.”

“No...it wouldn’t.”

They sat once more in silence, Apollo eventually sitting up. The man turned his head to look at the prince, Fleur doing the same.

“You are nervous, are you not?” The man asked.

“I am. I am hardly a leader. I do not know if can really do this, but I want to give it all I’ve got.” Fleur admitted, looking down to the grass. 

“You can do it.” Apollo encouraged.

“No I can’t...I’m not strong enough. I never have been. If you and Isocrates weren’t here... I would never have made it this far. I would have been lying dead back at the palace...or being used.” Fleur saw Apollo cringe at the thought. It was true, and they both knew it.

“Things change. You’re still young, with years ahead of you to experience,” said Apollo, still trying to reassure him.

Fleur looked at him with wide eyes. “Not if my grandfather passes. If he goes, I will come to be crowned, so long as I am sixteen or older. That is the Hamarian way.” The teen was starting to breath heavier now that the thought of it was weighing back on his mind. “I will not be ready. And there will be nothing I can do about it.” He let out low, agitated sigh.

“I just want to run any time I begin thinking about it. I am not strong by any means. I have tried and tried. My only defense is my words...I can not rule a province by words alone. I’m not good enough.” Any sense of calm he had achieved before was now gone. His thoughts returned and he felt dizzy.

Suddenly, a gentle hand slid under his chin, pulling his head. With its guidance, he faced Apolotus, eyes wide and beginning to well with overwhelmed tears. The soldier looked at him with a face of surety, solid in his gaze and demeanor.

Apollo said nothing, eyes never leaving Fleurs. His calloused hand slid further back to his shoulder, then rested on the back of his neck. Slowly, the space between then grew thinner until their lips were nearly touching, breaths mingling. ‘We’re breathing each other's air…’ thought Fleur, somehow forgetting all else.

Apollo did not move any closer, held still as if something invisible were keeping him from closing the gap. Instead, the two rest their foreheads together until Apollo pulled the prince closer, laying his head on the smaller's shoulder, and it was like this that they stayed.

“I’m sorry…” Apollo said after some time, still unmoving. “I am a fool...thinking I could...have this. That I could even begin to give you everything you deserve.”

Fleur frowned.

"You already do. Own it."


	15. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleur has many lessons to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gotten some help from lovely Mels13, which i am very grateful for, and i hope that it brings better chapters in the future!  
> So enjoy!!!!

The next morning, Apollo was up before sunrise in the training fields, preparing the equipment for the trainees so they could get right into it. Breaking the silence, he could hear footsteps approaching behind him, so with a practiced move and careful listening, he grabbed one of the wooden practice swords and swung it around stopping it just before it hit the person. When he turned, he saw golden hair shimmering in the torchlight.

Apollo had definitely not expected Fleur to be out in the training fields, nor be up so early in the morning. The teen was dressed casually in patran clothing that rested easily over his body, fur draped over his shoulders to keep him warm in the crisp morning air

“The sun isn’t even up...What are you doing?” asked Apollo eyebrows raised in amusement and question.

Fleur hadn’t even flinched despite having a wooden sword mere centimeters from his cheekbone. The hit likely would have broken his entire face open, but the teen wasn’t even fazed by it.

“Just came out to see what you get up to so early. I was not aware you came out before even the servants rose.” Fleur said, pushing aside the sword and walking closer to him. Apollo could smell the rose water wafting strongly from the young prince, likely meaning he even took a bath before coming out. It was a lovely scent that had him wanting to just let his eyes roll back into his head.

“I see. Well, someone has to prepare the grounds...and I could not sleep.” Apollo had been a bit hesitant in revealing his actual motive for being out. “Get in some practice of my own as well.”

Fleur nods, looking over the grounds briefly as if searching for something before focusing on him again. The young prince moves in even closer until his body was pressed hard against him.

“Maybe I can help...with sleep.” Fleur’s face showed innocence, but his eyes in the low torchlight said that the offer was anything but.

“No, that’s fine.” He deferred, backing up so he could turn back to the rack of practice swords. When turned, he swallowed heavily but set right back to work on making sure each sword was in proper condition.

He could not concentrate, however, when he felt arms wrap around his waist, a warm body pressed up close behind him. A gentle motion of rubbing on his back gave him hint that Fleur was nuzzling him. He tried to continue on with his inspection but the nagging feeling that he should put this to an end would not leave him. He could not let this keep happening. 

Placing the sword in his hand back in its place, Apollo turned around, holding Fleur at a distance by his shoulders.

“Fleur. No. We’ve talked about this. You are far too young for me. I will not allow this to go on. Now go back inside and get some sleep.” he said firmly. He hoped the teen would listen and go quietly. But the second those last words left his lips, he knew this would not be so. Fleur was not an easy one to control.

“Really? I'm not that young. I'm nearly sixteen. Don’t go telling me things you don’t mean.” Fleur argued.

Apollo sighed and shook his head. “I do mean this Fleur. It’s time to let it go. You are not sixteen yet. And even if you were, you are still too young. I am not the kind of man to take innocence from those too young to know what they want.” He remained just as firm, feeling his stomach begin to heat up and grow anxious. He did not want another fight with the boy, but it was already following that path.

“I do know what I want!” yelled Fleur, his teeth gritted, brow furrowed into deep creases. “You can’t just decide that I don’t know what I want. I’m not stupid. I want you. I want it to be you, but you’re being so ridiculous!”

“No, you are being a spoilt brat that thinks he’ll get whatever he wants at the snap of a finger. I am not under you Fleur. I don’t care for what you think you are or what you’re trying to be, or what you want. I already told you how it is. Believe me when I say you will not find yourself under me so long as you are under twenty years old. End of story. Now go back inside.”

Apollo began to feel a bit like he’d been a little harsh, but it was likely the only way he’d get his point through. Which, by the second long look on the teens face said that it was plenty. Fleur looked down to the ground before turning.

It was quiet for a minute, Fleur taking a step to leave before stopping. “I’m...sorry,” he whispered before continuing on slowly back to the palace.

Apollo watched him until he disappeared inside the doors, then turned back to the equipment. But only a second passed before he heard footsteps. Turning his head, he saw a rather familiar form.

“You prove a better man with every passing day,” said Isocrates upon coming closer, leaning on the wood beam of the supply shed. 

Apollo released a breath of air in response, shaking his head as he got back to work. “Why, because I am deflecting a very lost teenager from trying to jump on my cock?” Apollo jested, a brow raised amusedly as he glanced at Isocrates as he tested the waters of their newfound friendship.

“Because you are trying to save him something he might regret. He may not be stupid, but he is naive. And very spoilt! I’m glad I’m not the only one that's starting to notice it now.” Isocrates sighs, glancing back to the palace. “He’s never been like this. It was just 3 weeks ago that he’d been ignoring profound love letters and gifts from many of his admirers. Avoiding any that had come early to the celebration to seek him out. He never seemed to care much for romance. It does not make sense now that he’s like this.”

Apollo recalled Fleur speaking to him before about those seeking to court him. It disgusted him to no end that so many men far older than the teen was looking to court him. That anyone would try to get into his bed simply because of his looks. Fleur was beautiful, with no denying it, but he was still just a kid. 

“Yes, he’s told me a bit about it.” Apollo leaned on the rack, resting some of his weight on it as he reflected on the past conversation with Fleur.

“And what of you?” Asked Isocrates. “You do not write him elaborate letters, nor bring him flowers, or attempt to give him things. Save for that bow, and saving his life. But i know you do admire him plenty. The way you look at him--”

“Is not...like that.” Apollo cut him off, pausing a moment to search for the right words so Isocrates would not get the wrong idea. “I...I do like him...for who he is. He has many things to be admired. But i can not just ignore my morals to try courting someone I hardly know and is so young. I also have good reason to believe that he does not actually love me. So rest assured, you do not have to worry about me with him.”

Apollo flashed him a reassuring smile, to which Isocrates matched.

“Well then, perhaps I will talk to him about it. And hopefully, bring him into realization.”

# ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Later that day, Fleur sat at the table holding the maps of his home, a sand tray with plans drawn out into its grains, military pieces scattered about it. He’d been hard at work figuring out different ways to approach the situation. Though Fleur rarely left the walls of the palace for anything but going to stay at the old palace in Ios, he’d memorized the topography of the maps he’d gazed at before. It was not easy however as he also had to remember to include that he had an entire army to lead. 

The frustration was eventually enough to have him sitting back in his seat, lifting his goblet of water from the table and over to his lips. His brows were furrowed, face twisted with annoyance. The opening door drew his eyes from the maps, however, looking over to see who was entering. Blinking, he realized it was Vien, which wasn’t a surprise as he had been a part of the planning process as well, but he never came when it wasn’t on official planning business.

“Hello, cousin. What brings you here? In the mood for unsatisfying aggravation?” asked Fleur, not bothering to sit up in his seat.

Vien snorts with a smile, shaking his head. “No, I was actually looking for you. Iso is busy with Apolotus, and Prince Stumpface is no fun. Figured I’d spend some time with you.”

Fleur watched the Dalmat prince make himself comfortable in the seat across from him. “Oh, I see. Well, I could use a break anyway.”

Their conversation started easily enough, Fleur talking about his childhood, Vien prying for more detail. Before Fleur knew it, he was revealing things about himself that he would normally keep private. He realized that Vien was very easy to talk to, and was hardly snakish enough to feel like he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut about all of his secrets.

“So, about this Aturpat guy? You two seem rather friendly with each other. Is he your distant lover?” Vien asked with a prying grin. 

“What? No!” Fleur flushed, looking down at the table. “I just knew him from when he came on a diplomatic visit years ago. We have similar interests and minds,” he said, fiddling with his hands below the table.

“Your body language says otherwise. You must have some feelings for him? He is rather handsome and very intelligent. I can see why you would like him.”

Fleur felt as though he could pop at any second from the amount of pressure he felt in his head. He did rather like the Perasian prince and really enjoyed receiving letters from him every other month since they’d met. And then that pin he’d received upon the departure of the other, he kept it on his bedside table, holding it in his hand any time he felt like he just needed a bit of comfort. He even occasionally wore it as a hair ornament for more formal occasions.

“I...I never really gave it a whole lot of thought. But I suppose...I do like like him a bit.” Fleur muttered just loud enough for the other to hear him across the table. “Don’t go blabbing that to anyone. I only trust someone once.” He warned after.

Vien only smiled at him, leaning forward on the table, head resting on his palms. “Oh, I won’t. But what about your little infatuation with the soldier. Apolotus. You look at him with stars in your eyes. Surely you have a great interest in him as well?”

Fleur bit the inside of his cheek, lifting his shoulders shyly as he sunk into his seat a bit. “Well...yes.” He answered simply in a squeaky voice. The look on his cousin's face did not reassure him one bit that he was going to let the topic go.

“What is it you like so much about him?” 

Fleur blinked at the question, feeling really caught off guard by it. He sat there in thought for a minute. What did he like about Apollo?

“Well he...um...he’s...strong...and reliable...and…” He had to think harder, feeling more and more nervous now that he was actually sitting down and thinking about it.

“And?” asked Vien, a smile still on his face, his brows raised expectantly. Fleur felt a little cornered.

“And...that’s it. I...I don’t really know anything about him. We have spent the last few weeks all alone and never leaving each other sides but looking at it he is still practically a stranger to me. I never really learned anything about him other than how he grew up.” Fleur explained. “He saved me...and I really appreciate him for it.”

“You fantasize about him. Anyone would really. He is a man that could catch any eye.”

Fleur began to think harder now that it was brought to his attention. Sure, he liked Apollo, but was it really anything more than a small infatuation for him? Surely it couldn’t be now that he realized he knew next to nothing about who he was. He frowned.

“I suppose...that is all it is. Fantasy. He saved me...and I just...let it take over me. Forcing myself on him, hoping he’d...change his mind.” He sunk further into his seat. “I feel like a fool…”

Vien stood up and walked around the table, sitting on the chair beside him. “Do not feel so. We were all young and itching to fall in love. Especially at your age. Lucky for you, he is not one to slip so easily. He did not want to take something that could never be given back to you.”

He looked over at Vien, listening to his words of wisdom, allowing them to wash over him, soak up and take hold. He was right. These were the sorts of things his parents talked to him about. It did not matter how intelligent he was, a little teenage desire was not something he could just bypass. He just needed to be careful.

Then Fleur realized that he hadn’t been. He’d even said it himself. Forcing himself on him, trying to rub off his yearning to be taken, hoping he’d go with it. Trying his damn hardest to seem appealing to him. He was not careful, not thinking, just bending over and begging for it. He felt now that he must thank Apollo that he stayed true to what he believed in. For not just giving in and taking him.

“Well, I suppose in some way, I must thank him,” Fleur admits.

Vien seemed pleased by this and nodded. “Well. At least nothing has been lost here.” The Dalmat glanced to the nearest window, his eyes widening. “Oh, I need to be somewhere. This was a nice talk. I hope you feel that much wiser now.” 

The Dalmat prince did not stand until Fleur smiled and nodded, but he left almost immediately afterward. Fleur was left alone once more.

“... I'm still an idiot. But I guess I should be grateful.” He sighs before scooting back to the table to continue his planning.

Hours passed, and he’d eventually fallen asleep, head rested on an arm, likely having grown exhausted from working so hard mentally. He did not know how much time had passed since he passed out, but it didn’t feel like very long when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Fleur.” came a familiar voice. 

Fleur barely opened his eyes, peering out from under thick eyelashes to see that it was Apollo before him, kneeling down so that they were eye to eye. Fleur smiled a bit.

“Hey…” he said tiredly, still not lifting his head nor making to move. 

“Tiring work isn't it? Planning for war,” asked Apollo, smiling at him. He felt the man’s hand still on his shoulder, a thumb gently rubbing over the fabric of his shirt.

“It is…I don’t know how anyone does it. Why exhaust yourself with war when you can just eat good food?”

Apollo smiled warmly at this. “Food is always more enjoyable than war,” laughed Apollo, smiling at him fondly. “Oh, and I have this letter addressed to you. The courier was having a panic attack about not finding you. He said it was something you asked for.” 

A folded parchment was placed on the table beside him, which had him sitting up to slide it to himself and open it up. His eyes widened.

“Ah, yes.” The teen paused for a moment as he read over it thoroughly. Then he looked up to Apollo. “How do you feel about a little trip to the town of Blomst.”

Apollo raised a brow, looking confused and a bit reluctant. “Do I dare ask what for?”

Fleur gave him a wild grin. “Fun.”

# ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ 

There was no getting around Isocrates once he caught them walking their saddled horses towards a back gate to leave. He practically squeezed the answer out of Fleur, then insisted he go as well. Apollo stayed quiet while Fleur argued with him. But it did not matter, however, as the end result was still the same.

Isocrates rode at Fleur’s side, and Apollo on the other, all of them dressed in commoner clothes so as to not draw attention to themselves. And just to be on the safer side, Fleur had his right eye covered and his yellow hair covered by a scarf. 

“Okay, I must ask what the reasoning behind this is. This is absolutely ridiculous,” said Isocrates, looking extremely unmoved by going.

“I wanted to know if there are any scouts still looking for Apolotus and I. If there were, they may try and stop us from making a move on them in Akielos-Vere. That can go one of a thousand ways. I want to root it out before that happens. And what do you know, my line is being yanked. There are scouts. We’re going to catch and fillet them.” explained Fleur, sounding rather proud of himself.

Apollo snorted at the fishing reference, seeming to be highly amused by it. Fleur only grinned and looked at Isocrates. “You know a lot about that stuff right? You were a seaman for a while.” Isocrates groaned, leaving Fleur to giggle at his pain.

It wasn’t too long before they arrived at Blomst. Isocrates had insisted they come from around a back way, but Fleur argued. “No, that would be far too suspicious. The only way to get through this is to dive right in and act like we own the place. We’ll come through the main street. They won’t look twice at us wherever they are.” His brother seemed to sink down into his saddle, but continue on with them, looking very uncomfortable and weary.

So they rode right into the town, dismounted when the crowds began to thicken and walked their horses the rest of the way. Fleur was the one to get directions to where their ‘spies’ were set to meet up. The inn was like any typical one Fleur assumed. His father had described the ones he’d stayed in before on his days out on the road with Charls. The one they just entered was just as it been described, a front counter, stairs off to the side of the little hall that lead into an area full of tables and men laughing, drunk off their asses, meat on the spit over a large fire. 

Fleur did all the talking, knowing just what to say, but was also better at speaking Patran than the other two of them combine. When Fleur turned back to them, Apollo had a silly look on his face, to which he explained was that he was trying not to laugh at Fleur’s accent. It earned him a smack on the arm, but a playful smirk as well.

They were taken to their room, which had been rather awkward as the boy leading them kept glancing over with a suggestive raise of his brow and a grin. “Enjoy your stay.” The boy had said enticingly, which had Apollo and Isocrates looking at each other confusedly.

“Don’t think too much about it,” said Fleur. 

When the boy had left down the stairs, Fleur walked into the room two doors down, giving it six knocks before waiting. The door cracked open, an eye peeking out before opening fully.

“Quick,” said Albinet, allowing them inside.

The door was shut and locked immediately after, Albinet standing at it like a guard. Korinna was at a window, watching from a crack in the stained glass, and Gisa sat beside her, speaking quietly.

Both turned when Fleur entered the room, smiling at him.

“My prince Fleur. We have two in sight. Perhaps Apolotus can identify them.” said Korinna, moving to stand.

“Yes, Apolotus, go see if you can confirm and maybe identify,” Fleur said, looking at the Azrulean man politely.

Apollo nodded and walked to the window, using the chair to support one of his legs as he bent down to look through the crack. Fleur gazed at him for a second, awaiting an answer. No one said anything, at least not until Apollo stood up straight and turned to look at him.

“Yes, those are Azrulean men. I know one of them. A man named Avilius. I...grew up with him, and trained with him.” Apollo seemed to waver for a second about what he was doing but stood firm. Fleur knew he would not sway from this now.

“I see. I’m sorry. But we must be rid of them. I need to know what kind of fighters they are so we can defeat them.” said Fleur. He watched Apollo sigh, looking down at the floor in thought for a moment.

“From the look of their armor, I’d say they were mercenaries. They’re ready to make an attack on foot. None of them have any visible weapons, except Avilius. He’s got a sword, but he’s always been weak with his footwork. An advantage since he’s not mounted, and I won’t allow him to be.”

Fleur nods before turning his head towards Isocrates. “Okay, here’s the plan.”

# ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

The plan was simple enough; a reverse bait and switch. Fleur waited in the inn room, watching from the crack in the glass. Apollo was stationed below in an alleyway, and Isocrates had gone out the back with the three archers. It took a little while to get the actual plan working into motion, but Fleur was keen on watching the group of Azruleans across the way. 

Finally, a move was being made. The normal flow of the common folk changed down the street, heads were turning, people were stopping, staring down the street. Fleur watched as the posse came into view, making a rather large scene as they came to a stop in front of the inn.

Fleur smirked just the slightest at the figure wearing his clothes below. He had to admit, Albinet made a pretty good version of him, and those jewels really did make it seem like he had his multicolored eyes. 

Glancing back across the street, Fleur watched the men slowly begin to make their way to the inn, their eyes trained on his double. Then, they all disappeared inside. Fleur would not get see how this last half of his plan would play out as it would all be happening downstairs, and he could only grow more curious. 

But it was with a huff that he decided a peek down the stairs wouldn’t hurt anything, so he carefully opened the door and left the room. He wore Albinet’s surprisingly large clothes, the sleeves a bit too long, pants dragging a little on the floor. He wore no shoes, and his hair was braided at its end.

He was quiet to make his way down the long hallway to the stairs, tiptoeing down the old creaking wood steps just enough that he could just gaze into the seating area. Nothing could be seen from that vantage, so he came down just a few more steps, eyes never leaving the room, watching for what he had come down for. He hadn’t realized that he’d come all the way to the bottom of the stairs until he was already there. Fleur just shrugged it off, knowing he wouldn’t be seen from here.

He was wrong, however, when he heard the front door of the inn open, and he whipped his head around to see that it was Avilius. His eyes grew wide, realizing they were a mere ten feet from each other. Anyone from that distance could see his eyes and identify him easily. His hair was also a dead giveaway and usually drew attention to itself, just as it did now. 

The two stared at each other for a second before Fleur bolted up the stairs as fast as he could. He heard Avilius shout in Azrulean, likely that they had been duped. Heavy footsteps behind him let him know that he was being followed. So he ran as fast as he could to his room and slammed the door, shutting the bolt lock before backing away from the door. 

Fleur looked around for something, anything to defend himself with, but there was nothing. There was no time either, as the door was being pummelled by a man trying to get in. He looked around before seeing the cracked glass again. It looked like an escape route to him, so he grabbed the nearest, heaviest object that he was able to pick up and hurtled it into the glass. Had it not already been broken, he knew his weak throw would have done nothing, but since it was, the glass broke easily.

He was careful when stepping out of the window and onto the roofing just outside of the room. With only a glance back, he knew the door would give any moment, so he began to make his way across, using a board to get across to the next roof, and the next. 

Happening to take a look back, Fleur saw the man was now leaping across the first roof gap, hot on his tail. “Shit.” 

He began to run, leaping the rooftop since it was rather close, then another. It was the next jump however that he never got to make, the dragging hem of his pants caught on the tile, leading him to trip. There was not enough roof in front of him to catch his fall, so he fell from the building. The landing had been rough as hell, the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his back. 

Attempting to stand, Fleur scrambled to get out of there. He was so out of breath not only from the fall but from running itself, he felt like he could pass out any second now. But he did not give up. 

Running messily down the alleyway, Fleur was suddenly stopped by a man stepping in front of him. He tried to turn back the other way but ran into another man. He was surrounded. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew he couldn’t weasel his way out of this one. He was stuck.

A large hand gripped his arm, then another, leaving him to struggle uselessly. They spoke in Azrulean, but the grins on their faces were all he needed to see to know exactly what they were talking about. He tried to let out a cry for help, but a cloth was suddenly shoved in his mouth. One of the men began to feel over his body, his hands anything but gentle as he dug his fingers into Fleur’s body every so often, likely leaving bruises.

The hands eventually stopped just where the hem of his pants was kept tied. The ties were pulled, and the pants slid down his legs. He tried to scream, tears rolling down his cheeks as he fought pathetically to be freed. With one last attempt to get in an attack of his own, he used the man holding him as leverage and kicked the man in front of him, landing it right on the crotch. 

The man dropped to a knee, but it was short-lived as he was slammed to the ground. They were yelling at him in Azrulean, but he didn’t understand. What he did understand was that when they picked him off the floor and punched him in the face, was that it didn’t matter if he was bruised. They were going to kill him. He no longer held any leverage to be kept alive. 

The pain of them punching him, throwing him to ground as hard as they could, hurt so badly, he could barely make a move to even try to escape. It felt as though it would go on forever. Thrown to the ground again, Fleur braced for another flurry of brutal attacks, but it never came.

He glanced back with his good eye, his vision hypersensitive, the light of day being too bright. He saw the silhouettes of men fighting and men falling. He closed his eye, only opening it again when he was gently lifted up into someone's arms. He was sure it was Apollo, but he quickly fell unconscious before he could even say his name.

# ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Fleur woke up back at the palace, his whole body feeling numb. He lifted his hand to feel his face, feeling the pain from the bruises and puffy swellings. It was pain far beyond any he’d ever known, but he still tried to sit up. Even as his ribs sent shooting pain all over him, and his legs refused to be of any assistance, he got himself over to the side of the bed, an arm gently over his belly as he leaned. 

He felt sick lying down, but now realized he felt even more so sitting. He had no energy to lay back down, so he just let the waves of nausea and pain crash over him before calming. Once it was mostly gone, he tried to stand, using whatever he could as leverage. 

Fleur did not want to be here, in his own bedroom, by himself. Not now. Which was why he was so willing to put himself through more pain to move, to drag himself if he had to, all the way to Apollo’s room. His body felt as if it were on fire, but he was not willing to give up.

Once out of the room, he leaned on the wall every so often, catching his breath before continuing on. Surprisingly, he had nearly reached the man’s room. That is, until he saw Isocrates come around the corner. He did not look pleased in the least.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing.” the man demanded firmly upon coming up to him.

“Moving...what does it look like,” said Fleur, voice weak, but still managing some snark.

“No. Go lay your ass down before you hurt your stupid ass more.” 

Isocrates took his arm, but he shook it away. “No, I’m not going back. Just go away…I’m fine.”

This apparently had been the wrong thing to say as Isocrates grabbed him harder and turned his weak body to face him.

“Fine? Really? You’re fine? The fuck you are. You look like shit. You’re lucky to even be alive right now!” yelled Isocrates, baring his teeth in anger.

“Thanks for the insight on my appearance--” he was cut off suddenly.

“Shut up! Just shut your fucking mouth for one goddamn second in your life! You are not fucking fine! You were nearly beaten to death, and god knows what else they could have done to you if we hadn’t come in time. What the fuck were you thinking, coming down the stairs. You knew damn well it wasn’t safe if anyone saw you. You’re a fucking idiot for pulling that shit.”

Fleur was stunned by his brother’s words. Never had he spoken like this to him before. In fact, no one ever had. No one dared to. He tried to come up with a defense, but he was empty-handed. He had no defenses this time.

“You should have stayed in that fucking room like we all had agreed you would. You know fucking why we wanted you there? Because you’re fucking _weak_. You can’t defend yourself, or fight back. You aren’t quick, nor as crafty as you probably think you are. You’re fucking nothing!”

Isocrates was furious by now, with no intention of letting up on him any time soon. Fleur could only stare at him with a wide eye, though it strained. His brother’s words were slicing through him like a freshly sharpened sword, stabbing through over and over.

“You think you can just get away with anything because you’re fucking Blanchefleur of Akielos-Vere. The most beautiful and fairest in the land. Blanchefleur can do no wrong! Can he! He can’t even go wrong in nearly getting himself killed because he can’t even fucking fight! You are the weakest, most pathetic person I’ve ever known! You can’t even wield a god damn sword. Like a fucking two-year-old with his father’s sword! You don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone but yourself. You are nothing like your father. At least he was the will to become stronger. And what of you? Your looks? That won’t save our kingdom.”

Fleur felt the tears welling up, his mind wracking to find some kind of rebuttal, something to fight back with. He had nothing of use. “That...that’s not true...I’m not...weak.” He said shakily, trying so desperately to keep the tears back. “I…”

Isocrates growled. “Then fucking fight me! Take me down you pathetic piece of shit! Hit me!”

Fleur looked at him with fearful, confused eyes. Why was he doing this? Why was he being so hurtful?

“But...i..”

“You what? You can’t? Well, of course, you fucking can’t. Because you’re nothing You got the shit beat out of you and we all had to pay for your fucking arrogance. All you ever do is think, but you ever think about anyone but yourself? ...No. Of course, you fucking don’t. You have never once thought about how your actions would affect others. You say you can fight, so fucking hit me.”

Fleur frowned, but pulled back a fist and punched Isocrates in the arm. It was too weak, pain shooting up his own arm, and wouldn’t even leave his brother tender. Isocrates growled again and shoved him.

“HIT ME, BITCH.” He pushed his hands into Fleur’s shoulders, causing the boy to lose his balance and fall hard onto the floor before he could even think to defend himself.. “Get up! Hurry up!”

By now, Fleur was crying and could not stop it. He sat there on the floor for a second more before attempting to stand and fight back. He had barely gotten back on his feet before he was shoved back down, a foot landing on an aching shoulder, pushing him back into the wall.

“You are pathetic,” said Isocrates one last time before turning and storming back down the hallway, disappearing around a corner.

Fleur shook, sobbing as he was finally left alone. Never before had he felt so broken and beaten down. The beating he’d taken earlier by the Azrulean men had been nothing in comparison to this. This had been a lashing at his back, leaving such deep wounds, he was not sure if he’d ever recover.

He did not move from his place on the floor, no longer having the strength to continue on. How long he sat there, crying out what felt like buckets of tears, he did not know. It was a wonder to him how a servant hadn’t yet come across him. He was left to dwell in his pain and suffering, lost in a sea of doubt and heartbreak.

He did not hear the footsteps coming down the hallway, nor the steps turning into heaving footfalls of someone running. He saw through his tear-blurred eyes, someone kneeling beside him. Fleur could not even lift his head from where it hung low. Any strength he had remaining in him before was all but gone. Isocrates had been every bit of right, and he knew it.

The man beside him had gently pulled him closer, careful to avoid his more serious injuries, saying nothing. Fleur didn’t need him to. 

“...I am weak...Apolotus. I see now why you saved me. You knew I would have never stood a chance against anything in this world. I’m...so pitiful, that I’d need every bit of your assistance.” he croaked out. “I’ve got a body of glass...and a mind of stone. It’s...lovely isn’t it.”

Apollo pulled him closer until his head was resting on his chest, his hand rubbing gently over his covered arm. “I….I’m afraid that you are. Physically. And mentally, you still have plenty of growing to do. But not just anyone could have had the courage to pick themselves up, hold themselves with such grace while they make advances to get revenge. It’s usually in those stages of grief, when it happens so fast, people are rash. They do not think.”

His words held very little comfort, but it was all a truth in some way. He wasn’t sure if he’d call it courage, as it was stupid bravery and naivety to put so much trust into a stranger. 

“I cannot say that everything you’ve done so far has been for the best, but I know that you tried. Now, I believe you need guidance. Join the trainees when you are able. It will be good for you. I know you want to become strong. You want so much more than this. So join us when your strength has returned. If not, then you are condemned forever to weakness. That is your choice.” 

Fleur did not say anything but rather thought vaguely about it. Join the trainees he said? How could he ever keep up? Then again, how could he ever know if he never tried? Perhaps, it was time to stop pitying himself. 

“...can you return me to my room,” he said quietly, voice weak and tired. He needed to rest and better think about it at a later time.

Apollo said nothing, moving to pick him up instead, walking him back to his room, laying him back in his bed. The man had pulled the covers over him, then sat at his side. He vaguely remembered the feeling of a calloused hand caressing his cheek as he fell asleep.

# ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

A week passed after the mess in Blomst, and Apollo had taken over training sessions completely, opting to use gladiator techniques to strengthen the trainees and break them into being soldiers. 

The day had only just begun, the sun just coming up over the horizon, The trainees were filing into their lines, yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Apollo looked over the lot, assessing whether or not his training the day before had any effect. By the stiffened movements of limbs, he saw that it did.

His eyes were eventually drawn to something he was not used to seeing out on the fields often, especially not so early. Long golden hair that was normally down in intricate braids and ties, was now braided and held up in a tight bun. Comfortable lounge clothing had been traded out for clean, likely new, trainee clothes, delicate feet usually bare were now cased in boots meant for work. 

Fleur took a place in the lines, right up front so he stood just feet from Apollo. His pale skin was still marred with bruises and cuts, but he did not look at all deterred. The way he looked into his eyes, he seemed to be hardened, ready to get his hands dirty.

“I’m glad to see you out here,” said Apollo, a little smile on his face.

“Show me how to fight, make me stronger. And I will show you how to win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like? Love?   
> Comment!  
> Like what I do? Consider supporting me with a coffee or two, so I can continue making the best content that I can! https://ko-fi.com/N4N1AOF0


	16. Coming To Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fleur finally coming to terms that what he wants is not always what he is going to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO before I say anything else, I had already posted this chapter about three days ago. But after a while of thinking, I just didn't feel like it was the right way to go. So I decided to delete the chapter and change it to something I can work with that would not give off the vibe the original chapter had.  
> Only the ending of this chapter has changed.  
> With that said, I hope you guys better enjoy this new version of chapter 16~
> 
> And as I had with the original chapter, warning, there is sex in this one. And a little peeper.
> 
> ALSO, THAT ONE PERSON THAT COMMENTED ON THE ORIGINAL CHAPTER.  
> COME BACK TO ME. I'M SO SAD YOUR COMMENT IS GONE NOW.

A puff of dust floated over Fleur as he coughed and wheezed to catch his breath. “That was much better. Get up, try it again, this time, quicker,” said Apollo, leaning down to pick up the practice sword. He was stopped when a small hand slammed onto the handle, gripping it tightly. Fleur pushed himself up off the ground, his body feeling tired and weak, but he wasn’t giving up. He stood with a rounded back, arms limp. 

Without a word, Fleur came at him again, swinging the sword at him. He let out a cry as he attacked, sword swinging with practiced moves. Apollo defended against each attack skillfully, gritting his teeth a bit as he had to think ahead in order to block each move. Fleur may not have been strong, was easily winded, and had absolutely no natural affinity for swords, but what he did have was a will of iron and a quick mind. It made up for a lot of his shortcomings, though that alone would not be enough to win the war.

Fleur paused for a moment, breathing heavily, eyes drooping with exhaustion. The teen had risen early for the past few days since he began training, wanting morning practice. Then after practice, he asked Apollo or Vien for extra help, though he was almost always just seconds away from falling to his knees. 

Apollo really had to hand it to the kid for really putting in the effort, but he knew he should stop him from his extra practices afterward. Exhausting himself day in and day out was no good for his health.

“Alright, that should be plenty for the day,” Apollo shouted loud enough for all the trainees to hear. Swords and other equipment were being put away in the orderly fashion that Apollo had demanded of them, wanting every sense of order with his soon-to-be soldiers. Once the crowd had dispersed, he walked over to check on the inventory. He could already see that something was amiss. Turning around, Apollo saw Fleur still standing where he’d left him, sword gripped tightly in his hand. 

“Fleur, you can go in now, go get washed up and rested.”

“No. I want to practice more.” Fleur demanded, his brows crinkled in determination.

Apollo sighed and shook his head a little. He was still just as stubborn as ever. “You can’t keep this up. Even the strongest of men wouldn’t be able to keep up such a regiment, so you definitely wouldn’t be able to. Now put the sword back and head inside.”

The teen’s brows furled more, eyes narrowed, and he seemed like he would argue. But instead, his body relaxed a bit and he walked to the sword rack, letting the wood clack into its place. 

“Are you going to see him?” asked Fleur, glancing at him with no particular expression. 

Apollo blinked and looked down at the ground. The other spoke of Avilius, who had been captured instead of killed. The man was kept in the cells below the castle, and the only person allowed to go down to see him was Apollo. For the past few weeks, nothing more than nasty words had been spewed, mostly towards him. He was a traitor to the crown after all.

“Yes. I must keep trying. He is my dearest friend...like a brother to me. I cannot kill him, so I must make him understand.”

Fleur nods his head. “Well, you have until we move out to convince him.” 

Those words had resounded in his head many times as he walked down to the cells. Apollo didn’t want to think of the results if the man remained as stubborn as he was being now. The man was exactly as he’d left him that morning when he brought down his breakfast. The food still sat untouched on its tray on the ground.

Apollo sighed and sat on the chair just in front of the cell. He knew today what he wanted to do. Whether or not it would work, he did not know, but he had to try. The man’s life depended on it.

“Avi,” said Apollo, his voice friendly with familiarity. “You know it’s stupid of you not to eat. How will you fight?”

Avilius did not budge from where he sat on the floor, the opposite side of the bed and food inside of the cell. He seemed to have placed himself as far as he could have from anything that had been a part of Apollo’s kindness. The bed was not a normal cot, but a straw mattress someone had brought down and was very comfortable. The food had been equal in quality to the King's breakfast. All from Apollo’s consideration for their friendship.

“I won’t eat the food from a traitor’s hand.” said the man, his voice gruff likely from being parched. He wouldn’t even touch the water or wine, very unlike him, Apollo had thought.

“You really don’t consider that I would have done so for good reason? When have I ever given you a reason to believe otherwise?” This was the first time Avilius had spoken since he’d been brought, and Apollo was not going to let it be his last time.

Avilius turned his head to gaze at Apollo with a glinting blue eye. His face was still dirty, his hair falling over his eyes, clumped up by its greasiness. 

“They said Sentritus The Defiant had chosen you as his living flesh. You are not in your own mind,” said Avilius.

“And do you believe them?” asked Apollo, his expression never changing as he leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs.

“I believe you are not a fool. There was a reason Decimus chose you over all others.”

Apollo sighed. That much had been true. Azrule had quaked in anger when word of Decimus promoted a kid to his right-hand man rather than some weathered General that the former king had elected. Apollo had risen so quickly, the majority was sure he would have snapped from the pressure. He’d been a stubborn ass for as long as he could remember though, and he showed his country just what he was made of. Decimus had been proud of him then.

“Well, I hope I have not fooled myself this time.” Apollo stood up, reaching to his side to retrieve the single key there. The door was unlocked, the key is thrown aside to the chair. “Come out. It has been too long, friend. You are not getting enough sun. I would hate for you to begin rotting.”

Whether or not this was the right move, Apollo did not know, but here he was, backing away from the open cell door. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take on Avilius. As boys, they had tumbled around in the fields, wrestling around like wild lion cubs. Apollo had usually been the victor due to his lengthy height, and eventually, his far more muscular form. But he did not want to fight. 

The Azrulean soldier sat there a while, still glancing over with a single eye. The cell was rather dark there in the corner he was in, but Apollo knew he was thinking, strategizing, conjuring up the best route. By far, Avilius was also not stupid. At least not when it came to plotting the best course of action when it came down to a choice.

His choice was to stand. Weak and likely faint from the lack of any sustenance, he stood up and used the wall to walk towards the cell door. There was hesitance in his eyes, more thoughts. Apollo had always been curious as to what went on in his friend’s mind, similar to a certain someone that now gave him a hard time on a daily basis.

“If you think I’m going to cut you down like the traitor I've been, you’re wrong. And you know it,” said Apollo. He had a sword on him, as he always did, never without. But there was no plan on killing him, especially not in a state so weak.

“I know what the old Apolotus used to think. I do not know if this one is the same man.” Apollo’s lips twitched upwards a bit. Avilius hadn’t changed a single bit since they were kids.

Avilius seemed to finally come to conclusion before Apollo could respond. He took a step forward out of the cell, but it had been too much for his weakened limbs now that he did not hold onto anything. The Azrulean’s legs gave out, but before he could even get close to the ground, Apollo had grabbed him, holding him tightly.

“Never took you to be so foolish as to not eat...or even drink something.” 

“Shut up. You’re the idiot that ran off to become a traitor.” retorted Avilius roughly.

“And it makes you just as much of a traitor for not dying to try and kill me.”

“Then we are both insane.”

The two stared at each other for a while after their banter ended, but before anything more could happen, Apollo helped him to sit on the chair outside of the cell.

“I’ve missed you, you know,” said Apollo, kneeling down in front of the man, a hand resting on a bare thigh.

Avilius stared down at him, his brows scrunched a bit. ”I thought you were dead you know. When I heard that you were a traitor, I did not want to believe. Yet, here you are in front of me and I still don't want to believe it."

"I know. It is hard for even me to believe... but things have changed. I've changed." Apollo stares deeply into his friend's eyes, a lovely shade of honey brown that he remembered so fondly.

Leaning forward, Avilius kisses him gently on the lips, Apollo immediately kissing him back without hesitation.

"You still kiss the same so you couldn't have changed that much." 

"Eat, friend, before you faint." laughed Apollo, a happy smile on his face as he pulls the tray of food over. 

After Avilius finished as much as he could of the meal, Apollo helped him to stand and walked him up the stairs to the main floor of the palace. They were on the way to the physician to have the man looked over.

The visit was short, mostly just the cleaning of a few scraps from him being manhandled and forced into submission. Avilius hadn’t allowed anyone near him since he’d been brought, until now.

When the physician was finished, Avilius stubbornly insisted he walks on his own. By his own sheer force of will, he managed to get out of the room by himself, but Apollo had to catch him before he fell face first into the fine marble flooring.

Apollo was going to lead him straight to the room prepared beforehand for the soldier should he ever come around to their side, but Avilius had other plans.

“Take me out to the garden...I need fresh air. It’s dank down in those cells.” the man had said. And who was Apollo to deny his dearest friend a short walk of the garden?

The courtyard of the Hamarian palace was a lovely place, full of beautiful flowers, topiary, and even rare plant species never seen before. Avilius had always been rather fascinated by plants, though he never revealed it verbally to anyone. It was only something Apollo had discovered upon observation.

The look in the dark-haired man’s eyes was that of intrigue and captivation as they walked along the plant-lined walkways. Eventually, walking had become too much for Avilius, being rather winded from his week-long self-neglect. So upon coming across the next bench, they sat side by side, almost too close for it be friendly.

Apollo’s arm, which had been wrapped around his friend’s back for support, had remained where was, even after they sat. But neither of them seem to be bothered by it, but rather contented. To them, it was just like picking up right where they left off.

Avilius eventually turned to face Apollo with an intimate gaze he knew well. A gaze saved for late afternoons like this when all work was finished, and the day was winding down, the sun setting and casting their world into an orangish hue. It was a look that Apollo hadn’t realized he longed to see again.

“I’ve missed you as well…” mumbled Avilius, never looking away. “It...It’s been so lonely since you left the capital, that I tried to rush preparations to come and meet up at the palace. When I heard what you’d done...I took the first opportunity given to leave to come and find you. I...I could never have killed you.”

“And you preached to me about being impatient and foolish.” joked Apollo, smiling warmly as he lifted his free hand to caress the other’s stubbled cheek.

“You _are_ a fool. Always have been, and as I see it going, always will be. But you are a fool I have missed dearly.”

Apollo turned his body, leaning down until their lips were nearly touching. “I am right here...you do not have to ache any longer.”

“Kiss me then, you idiot.”

They only stared into each other's eyes, unmoving of the small distance between their lips. They longed for each other as their breaths mingled amongst them, but never made a move to close in. 

Finally, they met each other in the middle and throwing themselves into a passionate mess of lips, hands threading through hair and pulling one another as close as they could possibly get. It felt like an eternity that they had last been together, and Apollo just wanted to savor the taste of the other's lips.

Parting was difficult, wanting kisses placed over and over again, barely enough time to get a single breath. Avilius had pushed Apollo back at some point during their passion, his body halfway sitting on him now.

“Gods I have missed you…” Apollo said breathlessly. “I want more.”

Avilius was giving him a look that made him feel unbelievably aroused, wanting nothing more than to push him onto the grass and take him there. But he would not do that. Though they were not unfamiliar with fucking somewhere they might have been caught, Apollo just couldn’t bring himself to do that here.

“Come..to my room,” Avilius said, needing to say no more as Apollo stood, helping him up as well.

The walk was about as quick as they could manage with Avilius’ weak legs and limp, and was nearly far too long as their lust was beginning to overtake them. The door was slammed shut as Avilius pushed Apollo back into it, pulling his head down by his hair to kiss him roughly. Apollo’s hands immediately found themselves groping anywhere they could reach, pulling at clothing, caressing scar blemished skin. 

A trail of clothing was left behind them as they made their way towards the bed. Avilius pushed him down onto it, then crawled carefully overtop him, trailing kissing all the way up to his lips. But it was a mere teaser as the man trailed back down until he couldn't see him, then he felt lips upon his cock, causing his hips to thrust once. Apollo propped himself up on his elbows, watching Avilius work the shaft with his hands, lips on the head. 

Apollo threw his head back upon the mattress when the man took almost half of his length into his mouth, and slowly made his way further down. By the time he was down to the base, Apollo was deep inside his throat, which only further clenched around him. Avilius carefully bobbed his head, using his tongue in the most magical of ways. Hands wandered over his thighs, down to his sac, hands rubbed everywhere they could touch, nails leaving the faintest of marks. Avilius did always know how to drive him crazy.

# ⚚ ⚚ ⚚ ⚚

Fleur decided that maybe he could be of some assistance to Apollo in convincing his friend to join them. But when he came to the stairs to inquire a guard if the man was still down in the cells, he found that Apollo had left with Avilius. So it seems the man had come around after all. That meant that now perhaps they could become better acquainted, so he took off in search of the pair. 

They weren’t in any of the sitting rooms, nor the dining hall, but he was able to find out that they had gone out to gardens a while before. He took a brief walk through the main gardens but found no sign of them. He then figured that maybe Avilius had grown too weak and was taken back to his room. So with that in mind, Fleur took off for the room he’d been told would be Avilius’ should he change sides.

The room was beside Apollo’s and equal in lavish decorations and furniture. However, there were a few things out of place there at the entrance. There were clothes discarded here and there, nearly unrecognizable. Then he saw the sword belt, sword still in its holster, and the cingulum with the sun symbol upon it. These were Apollo’s clothes, but there were also others. 

_‘What in the world?’_ thought Fleur, as he stepped forward cautiously, following the trail of clothes through the sitting room and to the archway leading to the bedroom. It was covered by thick drapes for privacy instead of doors, but there was a small gap open by the pillar of the arch. Fleur step towards it upon hearing a loud groan, gently pushing aside the fabric to get a peek.

Sure enough, what he saw was definitely not as innocent as he was hoping. Apollo was laying on the bed, arms up at the sides of his head as he hands gripped the fabric of the sheets. Fleur’s eyes trailed down his elongated bare chest and abdomen until he came to the head between his legs. The dark hair was familiar, seen only a few times before, but he still he knew who it was.

Fleur’s heart rate sped up, his teeth gritting with anger. He could not believe this. After all that he’d tried, everything he’d done to appeal to Apollo, he couldn’t get even the slightest bit of attention from him. But all it took was a few visits to his old ‘buddy’, and they were off sucking dicks and god knows what else? 

He was about to throw aside the drapes but stopped when Avilius’ head lifted, mouth slipping off Apollo’s erect cock. Fleur felt his face grow hot, something deep down in him beginning to heat, not from hatred, but something else. Something he just didn’t know how to explain began to blossom and grow as he watched Avilius crawl up to straddle Apollo’s waist. The sounds of lips parting over and over, the way Apollo’s cock lifted up with arousal and need before dropping again. Apollo wrapped his arms around Avilius to pull him closer then moved his hands down further and disappeared between Avilius cheeks. 

He gulped quietly, as he watched the scene unfold. He saw fingers covered in something slick slide down between them, slipping its way between Avilius cheeks as their bodies moved and rutted against each other, finding the pleasure in a common rhythm. The way Apollo caressed Avilius’ skin, and how they flipped around so Apollo was on top, Avilius’ legs resting on the top of muscular thighs. There was more moaning, then kissing.

Fleur felt himself growing warmer by the second. Before he knew it, he was untying laces and sliding a hand into his pants, eyes trained on the pair just through the drapes. The teen was panting as he watched Apollo stretch and thrust into the hole with his large fingers. He imagined it being him as he slipped his hand further and rubbed a few times at his own hole. Though Fleur knew he should have been over his silly little infatuation with the soldier, he couldn’t help but just imagine what it felt like.

What did it feel like to be spread wide by gentle fingers, to have those lips sucking and kissing his neck, to feel the heat of his body over his? It was a fantasy that he could not shake, especially now as he watched their bodies colliding rapidly. The sounds of needy pants and moans meant only for each other. To watch the man he knew he had been so childishly obsessed over fuck someone else should have helped to further him from his fantasy. But instead, it only seemed to make it stronger. 

He wanted to be the one under him, he wanted to feel Apollos cock inside him but he couldn’t have that. He couldn’t watch first hand as Apollo closed in on his climax, to know what he looked like as he took one final thrust and came inside. To hear the sounds he made as he buried his head in his neck after. No, he could only watch from afar and fold in on himself as he climaxed too quickly at the just the notion of the man that he wanted coming.

It was afterward that Fleur regretted everything. He wished that he had not come here, had not watched. He wished he could have remained blissfully unaware, and gone on with his life never knowing. Maybe then he wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming wave of jealousy and hatred now consuming. He couldn’t believe this. 

_‘It should have been me’_ thought Fleur as he gripped the drapes and threw them aside viciously.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, startling the pair that was still joined in a most intimate embrace. He saw Apollo pull back fast, watching his cock dripping with his own cum as it slipped out of the other man. He felt aroused, but disgusted at the same time.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Fleur growled before whipping around and storming off, not knowing where he was going, but he knew he just needed to get out of there before he got himself hurt.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

Apollo sat on the bed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs as he stared ahead at the wall. He was in absolute shock, but also felt some sort of guilt. He didn’t know why he felt like this.

“So you and that kid. You’re together?” asked Avilius from across the bed where he lay completely naked still, casual and comfortable.

Apollo snapped his head to look back at the other man, his brows furrowed tightly. “No.” He said so firmly, it came off as aggressive. “No, we’re not.”

“It sure seemed like you are. The way he yelled at you, what he said. So this is what you became a traitor for? To have little boys running around, gawking and fawning over you? I never thought that would have been your type.”

Apollo stood up suddenly and turned, looking furious. “Stop it. We’re fucking not, okay.”

Avilius sat up upon the aggressiveness progressing. Apollo was never like this unless there was something bothering him.

“I’m sorry. Come here. What’s wrong? Tell me.”

But Apollo only shook his head. 

“No, I...I need to go find him. Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. He goes and does stupid shit when he’s like this. I need to fix it now.” said Apollo as he began to pick up his clothes and pull them back on quickly.

Just before he left, he heard Avilius say, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Apollo didn’t know what that meant, but he tried not think too much about it. Finding Fleur was his top priority. With the help of passing servants, he managed to find the teen brooding deep in a courtyard. Though he knew it would be difficult to get anything through Fleur’s mind of stone, he had to try. 

“Fleur,” he called, standing a few feet back in case the teen wanted to lash out. But Fleur didn’t move. Rather, his head lowered down more, his arms tightening around his own body. 

Apollo let out a small sigh before going to sit down beside him. He was sure Fleur had gotten over this already as this past week had gone smoothly. And yet, here they were once more.

“Why…” the teen eventually spoke, voice muffled by his arm. He sat in a position usually only kids did, legs brought up to his chest, balancing somehow on the bench with ease. 

“Why what?” asked Apollo, looking over at him.

Fleur unfolded himself from the position and stood, facing him with a twisted face. “You know what! Don’t play a fool. Why! Why is it that you’ll fuck him, but you won’t even look at me. Is there something wrong with me? Did I do something? I don’t understand!”

Apollo felt like rubbing his temples but refrained from doing so.

“Fleur, we have talked about this already.”

“Yes, but for some fucking reason, you’ve never given me a legitimate reason. I know you like me. I’m not fucking stupid or blind. Neither is anyone else. So why? Is it just some sick joke?”

“No.” he replied.

“What, you just like teasing people? Is he your real lover?”

“No...and no.” Apollo lowered his head.

“Then fucking what!” Fleur screamed at him, his teeth bared, obviously very pissed off. “Tell me fucking why! What is it that makes you act this way towards me!”

Apollo turned his head. 

This only angered Fleur further as the teen stomped the few feet between them and reached up to pull his head to look down at hazel and blue eyes.

“Fucking answer me.” said the teen, emphasizing each word coldly.

He may have been six years younger than him, and nearly half his size, but he felt himself feeling chills from the other’s gaze.

“Look I just...I don’t want to do things like that with you...you’re young, and you have so much more to look forward to.”

Fleur’s scowl intensified. “Don’t feed me that bullshit. What the fuck is it. I want a reason.”

“It’s just because!” Apollo said more aggressively than he meant to. He pulled away from Fleur and turned, unable to look at him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I just...Fleur...I’d give anything to let this happen. But you are too young. Far too young. One day you will understand, not now but soon, when you are older. I know, you're going to be sixteen, but where I am from, we don't even begin pursuing someone until they are eighteen. It’s for good reason. Things change over that time. You will change. Not just your body, but your mind.”

Apolotus turns around to face him again, seeing him just standing there, looking abandoned. He placed his hands on the Fleur’s shoulders, lifting one to caress his cheek with a thumb.

“Don’t give me those puppy eyes. I just want what is best for you, and I don’t think that is me. I can’t...give you what you want. Not now. Maybe not ever. You’re a prince, eventually a king. And I? I was born a dirty water peasant in the slums of the Azrule capitol. No amount of time passed will ever change that. You can paint junk gold, but that won't change its value. People like us just weren’t meant to be together. That is a thing of fairy tales, this is the reality.”

Fleur looked up at him, eyes sad, but he ended up nodding in understanding. “This will not change then...until I am older? Do you not think you could grow to return my feelings? That’s it?”

Apollo blinked. “Did you hear the rest of what I said?”

“Yes, I did. Does it look like I’ve ever cared? Am I supposed to? You could have crawled out of the deepest crevices of hell...but if you were just as you are now, I still would not care where you came from.”

This surprised Apollo, but then again, he realized that Fleur has never cared. The teen knew who he was, where he was from, how he grew up. Never once, however, had it seemed to deter him. 

“I will miss you when we part ways.” 

This made Apollo hurt more than anything, but he stood strong. 

“You’ll forget me with time.”

“What if I don’t want to?” asks Fleur, giving him a stubborn look.

“Then don’t. But, I think you’ll find someone else. Aturpat for example. He seems really transfixed on you. I think you’ll start feeling the same way when I'm gone.”

Fleur took a small step forward and rested his head on Apolotus’ chest. Apollo just smiled a bit.

“Please just...hug me, like you did that one night. That’s all I want.” Fleur said quietly. “I won’t bother you anymore about it. I can't stop being jealous of Avil with his weird beard and all of his asshair. But I’ll stop bothering you.”

Apollo laughed as he wrapped his arms around Fleur, holding him close. Fleur embraced him back, just hiding his face. Apollo could see though that he was turning red, likely embarrassed at admitting that he was jealous.

“Let’s go back inside. Dinner will be ready soon. And you smell...like sweat and dirt,” Apollo said with a grin. “And somehow, still like roses. I think that is literally your permanent scent.”

“You smell of sex and dirt. Far worse than I. Get to the baths, nasty.” Fleur joked, pushing away from Apollo and began running back to the palace. He did stop and turn back to smile at him once more before continuing on.

Apollo could only snort and smile back as he crossed his arms, still standing in the garden. “He’s too much sometimes.” He mumbles to himself before making his way back inside. He wondered if Avilius was up for another round in the baths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Love it? Comment! give me some love!  
> Also, please consider supporting me with a coffee or two, so I can continue working freely in bringing you all content! Ko-fi.com/sitical


	17. Life is Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come to reclaim what was once their own, in the name of those fallen to this treachery. Though sometimes, there a few...little bumps on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO YO YO YO YO YOOOO. WE ARE BACK AGAIN. WITH CHAPTER 17 YEEEEEEEEEE.  
> I am extra super excited about this chapter, as every chapter after it will be JAM PACKED with shit I know we all wanted and didn't know we did LMAO. Or at least...shit I knew I didn't know I wanted till now. oAo
> 
> ANYWAYS, ENJOY THE CHAPTER. LEAVE ME SOME LOVE, SOME THOUGHTS. WHATEVER YOU WANT. SCREAM INCOHERENTLY AT ME IF YOU'D LIKE.
> 
> **ALSO HERE'S SOMETHING FUN TO DO. A POLL FOR THE FUTURE OF THIS STORY. GO CHECK IT OUT, LEAVE ME SOME ANSWERS! AND WE GOOD TO GOOOO** https://goo.gl/forms/E3QK3OTFhc7cddVf1

Two weeks passed, and Fleur was absolutely exhausted, physically and mentally. He found himself longing for his parents in a way he never had before, wanting to ask them for advice on what to do and missing them not being right around the corner. His tried his hardest to keep his mind preoccupied with other things at all times. So he’d been up at dawn every morning to train with the other soldiers, working harder than he ever had before. Afternoons and nights were spent pouring over maps and tactical plans, trying to come up with the best route and fighting vantages.

Tonight, there was a grand party as they would be leaving noon of the next day. They were finally ready to begin their two-week trek back to Akielos-Vere. All plans had been finalized, the soldiers ready. Fleur had grown from a delicate garden flower into a hardy tree, unmovable and ready to take on what was to come.

He dressed in only the finest of silks and fabrics after having given the best cloth merchants and seamstresses in Hamar the most difficult of tasks in creating something fitting to his tastes. After having been planned and created for over two weeks, Fleur was not disappointed. A most wonderful green fabric of such fine quality was sewn into a doublet tunic, strings dipped in gold and sewn into the fabric in sophisticated patterns glinted in the lights of the ballroom. A long cape, each end held by golden moldings of a starburst and lion on his shoulders, drug across the floor, glittering with tiny jewels.

 

As he always, his hair was done elaborately into thin braids, curls and carefully sculpted hair flowers with emeralds woven into their centers. He was the jewel of the room that no eye could look away from. 

Fleur spotted Apollo as he came in a bit late, dressed like an Azrulean War King with his leather skirts, massive golden plated cingulum, and of course, the blue shoulder cape fluttering from his shoulder piece. 

_’The most handsome man in the room’_ , thought Fleur. 

He no longer got angry over the lack of intimate attention from him, but nothing could have stopped the feelings still blossoming within his heart. Feelings he thought he’d misunderstood some time before, but as time went by had realized they had become genuine. All those mornings spent sparring, and the afternoons over maps, dinners at his side had only strengthened them. 

Avilius walked into the room and joined Apollo’s side, causing Fleur to look away. As he’d predicted, he still rather jealous of the man. Fleur turned his attention to the rest of the room instead, watching people have a good time dancing and feasting on the tables full of food. He realized the last time he’d danced had been with Apollo, though it was not the most memorable due to the haziness the alcohol caused. 

He recalled then, the time before. It had been a grand banquet in the Arles Palace. A winter ball, to celebrate the solstice. He had so much fun then, dancing with his family, eating to his heart's content, not a care in the world being only ten years old. He missed his father’s ever stoic gaze, his papa’s gleaming smiles and warm hugs, Damos’ brotherly presence, Uncle Nik’s loving embrace and advice. 

Tomorrow, they would leave, and from that point on, he was going to do everything in his power to take his home back. No matter the cost. They would have to kill him first before he’d ever think of giving up. And he knew that with the alliances and friends he had at his side, he could do anything.

He was invited onto the floor to dance by a young man, to which Fleur surprisingly found himself accepting. The couples dances eventually turned into a group dance, which he greatly enjoyed. He was about to retreat back to the sidelines when another couples dance was about to begin, but he found himself stopped by a face made scarce that past month. 

Thurstan bowed and smiled at him, extending a hand to him. “It would be a great honor if I could have a dance with the Crown Prince.” 

Fleur blinked as he watched the teen’s posture and etiquette. He recognized the fine training that most other princes had, the same training that was coming naturally to himself now. 

“Very well. One more dance would not hurt,” said Fleur with a polite smile, allowing Thurstan to lead him back out to the floor. 

He could feel many eyes on him as he danced with the other teen, but he couldn’t quite figure out why yet. It’s not like they had their hands inappropriately placed. Thurstan kept it civilized with a hand resting a little higher than his middle back, and their hands weren’t touching any more than they needed to. 

When the dance ended, Thurstan walked him back to the sidelines, bowing a bit once more. “You’re a very proficient dancer,” Thurstan said, a charming smile upon his lips as he brought up Fleur’s hand to kiss his middle knuckle.

“Thank you. You are just as well taught.” he complimented back.

“If you don’t mind would you indulge me for a walk in the garden? It’s been weeks but it feels like you just arrived with how little I’ve seen you around. I never could find the time to talk with you privately.”

Fleur smiled at this, deciding to humor him once more. “Well, I don't see a reason why not.”

So they walked out one of the balconies and down the steps into the courtyard. It was clear of any others, so they were free to wander the paths as they pleased.

Thurstan turned his head to look at Fleur almost as soon as they got out there, smiling at him. “So, Blanchefleur of Akielos-Vere. I have heard a bit about you. So tell me, what do you know of the circumstances of your birth?”

Fleur blinked at this, looking back at the other teen with a questioning look before answering, “Well, not much in all honesty. My mother is the princess of Hamar. Also your mother. Adoptively. And well, she arranged with my father that I would be raised by him but come back to her country to rule when the current king passes.” 

“Have you ever thought it was strange that you were to live in one country but be trained to rule another that you have never been to until now? 

Fleur stopped at the next bench he came to and sat, thinking more thoroughly about this crazy idea proposed to him. But he also then realized that it was not just some idea. It was his reality. He was a Crown Prince, born to rule Hamar, but raised by his Veretian and Akielon fathers in a country far from his inheritance.

“Fleur, the situation with your birth is something of a mystery. How can two people who have never had sex create a child, much less twins?”

“Twins?” asked Fleur in pure disbelief. He couldn't believe his own ears upon hearing this single word spill from Thurstan’s mouth. There was no way this was possible. “Are you insane? Both my fathers were there for the birth, they would have told me if there was another child.”

“Unless it was better to keep it a secret for the safety of the nation. Fleur, dearest Fleur, just look at me. We are not identical but the similarities are still there.”

Fleur looks at him, the only light being by the lit torches in the courtyards, illuminating them both in a warm glow. He really looked at Thurstan, seeing each feature of him far closer than he had the first time he met him. It was close to looking in a mirror, but also like looking across the dinner table on any normal night. His father. 

“But...Thurstan, you were adopted…. How? How could this be true?” Fleur looks at his face. “You look more like Laurent than I do.” 

Thurstan smiles, trying to defuse the tension. “As a kid, I hated you. Having two fathers that loved you and I was stuck with a mother that never wanted a child. You had everything that I ever wanted. I was upset when you came here after we had heard the news of what happened but then I met you and I’ve spent all this time watching you. I admire you Fleur. You have guts and determination. I can’t imagine how you are staying so strong after losing everything.”

Fleur stares up at him. “I’m sorry, I had no idea of any of this. You are here and I still don’t believe it. Why was this kept a secret? Why couldn’t we stay together at birth?”

“Think about it. The whole reason you were born was to stop a possible predicament between your two Akielon bastard brothers. The primogeniture has been strong in both Akielos and Vere for generations. Both Damianos and Laurent wanted to avoid the bloodshed and pain that they witnessed between their own brothers. And having another set of twins? That would have only added to the problem. Mother told me that they chose me to go with her because I was the bigger of the two. I had a better chance of surviving the journey after birth. I’m sorry Fleur, I had assumed that you knew this when you came but when you didn’t embrace me as a brother, I knew and was waiting for the right time to break the news to you.”

Fleur stared at the ground in thought, trying to connect all the pieces together. It did make sense, all of it. He was created not only to be a son of Laurent but to rule kingdoms. It was a very intimidating thought, knowing that a kingdom, perhaps even two, were relying solely on him. But regardless of that thought, Fleur realized just how happy he was.

“So...I have a brother. A blood-related brother. That’s incredible. My father likely does not know about you...does he.”

Thurstan shook his head. “No. No one but our mother, grandfather, and my nursemaid know anything. It’s selfish of me but I just wanted you to know, you aren't alone. I know you have your Akielon brothers but I am of the same blood. I see how strongly you stand, all alone. Legend says twins always have a special connection. I want you to know that you have me too. And you always will.”

Fleur looked at Thurstan and smiled wide. “And you, I. I’m so sorry you had to endure being essentially alone all this time.”

“Well, our grandfather loved looking over me and my studies. My nursemaid eventually became my full caretaker. She was like my mother to me. Our mother may have tried to avoid raising me, but that didn’t stop anyone else from trying to step in. Don’t let it bother you too much. I may have been alone but I wasn’t ever lonely”

Fleur, without even thinking, leaned over and gave his brother a tight hug. “Well, perhaps you’ll find me returning sooner. If not to rule, then to visit a long-lost brother. I’m...sure our father would love to meet you as well. If you would like that. We don’t have to make things complicated, it’ll be just between us.”

“I’d like that. So long as it won’t get our mother in trouble with him of course. King Laurent is known to overreact at times. The last thing we need is more political drama.”

“Surely not.” Fleur laughed knowing this to be true, “He’d understand.”

“Well, it is getting late, and the party is beginning to die down. Perhaps you should go and get some rest. I had not planned to keep you out here for so long.” Thurstan chuckles.

“Well you did, now people will begin to assume things.” Fleur jested with a laugh. “But, I would have rather spent this time with you than anywhere else. This makes me very happy to know.”

Thurstan pulls him in closer for one last embrace. “I hope that you do sleep well, brother. Goodnight, and happy birthday.” 

Fleur, shocked from the words happy birthday, stills, barely registering the kiss on his cheek. By the time reality has come back to him, Thurstan’s back is to him and quickly disappearing back into the crowded hall.

“Happy birthday to you too,” Fleur whispers under his breath as his hand reaching to his cheek where his brother had kissed him.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The next morning, preparations began early, readying the horses, feeding, cleaning, saddling. The wagons had been filled the days before and were ready to be hooked up. 

Fleur looked out his window at dawn to check on the progress, pulling on his shirt as he watched. Today was the day, and he couldn’t believe it. All their hard work was now about to be put to use, and he could only hope now that they were ready.

A knock at the door had him turning away from the window. “Come in,” he calls as he continued to lace up the silky undershirt.

The door opened, revealing Aturpat, who had made himself scarce the past few weeks, likely tending his own army camped just outside of the palace walls.

“Today's the day.” said the Perasian, a gentle smile on his face.

Fleur smiled back and nodded. “Yes, it is. It’s been a long month, but we’re finally going to take back my home” He sighed again as he looked back to the window.

Fleur hadn’t heard Aturpat come closer but didn’t startle upon feeling his hand upon his shoulder.

“What will you do when we get it back?”

He’d never given it a whole lot of thought, as seemed to be his theme of the month. “Well, I suppose we will be figuring out the council that will be holding the crown until Iso is of age. And then begin reparations of the palace, should there be any damages, and fix what we can of a possibly ruined economy. I’m sure that my Uncle Nikandros has not let that happen, but there's really no telling what's happened until we reach it.”

“Well, I have no doubt that you will be able to fix whatever may lie beyond these plains and hills. You have your Father’s smarts and bravery. If you set your mind to it i believe you could accomplish anything.”

Fleur turned to face him and smile. “Thank you. Your words of encouragement inspire me. I feel as if I could soar right now.”

Aturpat left to go down to help with the final preparations while Fleur prepared himself for the ride. At a recent meeting of all of the princes and commanders, they all had agreed that it would be Fleur at the head of the armies. He would be directing them, leading them, and would have the final word. Some of the soldiers were a bit skeptical of having a kid at the head of their army, a green prince, but nonetheless, all fell in line.

Fleur came out onto the balcony overlooking the stone tiled courtyard where the heads of the army were preparing. There were all saddled and standing by their horses, waiting for him to arrive.

Fleur’s horse, a beautiful mare that reminded him much of his father’s old horse that had passed many years ago, stood on the balcony, ready for him to mount. He strode over and with a practiced push off the ground, he was on the horse and was taller than even the upright poles fluttering with each princes colors and insignias. His own were glittering behind him, a shimmering gold moon crescent and star on elegant white silk.

“The day has finally come,” he spoke out over the courtyard. “Today, we ride out from Hamar, from where we have found refuge to train and prepare ourselves for the days to come. And now, we ride. For Akielos-Vere!” he yells out.

Shouts from the soldiers thunder over the courtyard. He heard Aein shout ‘Grá Aontaithe’ and other variations of his countries name.

The lines were reassembled and they began to move out of the gates as Fleur watched. Fleur felt a hand upon on his knee, startling him just the slightest. He looks down, seeing that it was Thurstan at his side. The other was dressed up rather impeccably despite only needing to show up for the 20 minutes they would be standing idle.

“They all have a lot of trust in you.” said the other teen, looking up to him. He realized that he finally taller than him. 

“And would you?” 

Thurstan smiled. “Naturally.” 

Fleur smiled as well before looking back to the last of the retinue filing out.

“Had I known of you sooner, and how you were,” Fleur began. “I would have been jealous of you as well.”

“Oh?” said Thurstan. “And why would that be?”

“Because you have all the strength and rippling pectorals I could never gain myself.”

They both broke into a chuckle when the final man left the gates, the horns began to blow, a signal that meant for his leaving the gates..

“Well, perhaps someday soon, we'll both have what we've always wanted. Pecs and all. Farewell brother, for now.”

“Yes, for now.” 

Thurstan took his hand and kissed his middle finger before Fleur rode off for the steps, the mare taking them two steps at a time before jumping off the last. Fleur took one last look at the balcony where Thurstan stood properly, his mother and grandfather stood beside him. He reared up his horse as he waved his final goodbye, then galloped off through the gates to ride to the front of the retinue. Within minutes, they were all gone, heading down over the hills, headed for the coastline where they would be following an old merchants trail.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The ride to start of the trail was only a half hours time, to which was spent with the army trudging along rather happily, tall and proud. Though they had just over a fortnights travel ahead of them, they felt extremely confident.

That is, until they spotted a massive group in the distance, standing directly in the middle of the trail.

“Prince Fleur, what shall we do?” asked one of the men.

“Perhaps it is just a herd of cattle.” said someone else.

“And perhaps it is not,” said Fleur. “Swords ready. Just in case. It will waste time going around.”

They continued on until they came to see that it was not a herd of cattle, or anything nearly as harmless. No, it was a massive group of men, about ‘eighty or so’ Apolotus had guessed. They all were mounted, waiting. 

“Send a pair up. See what they are doing.” 

Two older, more war-hardened men were sent in place of the courier boys that they had, knowing they would not be able to handle a situation like this. Surprisingly, there was no bloodshed as the two men rode back.

“Your majesty, they wish to speak to Apolotus.”

“Upon what grounds,” asked Fleur, staring at the group. They looked familiar, like the prairie dogs they had encountered the month before.

“They look to him now, for guidance. That is all they have said.”

Fleur hummed before signaling for Apollo to come up to him. “Do you think you can handle this? They don’t seem hostile.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll go. If anything happens, you’d better run.” is all Apollo said before riding off to the group of men waiting before them. 

Fifteen minutes passed before Apollo came back. 

“They will be joining us,” said Apollo.

Fleur raised a brow. “Joining? Who are they? And why.”

“They are a group of eighty-three Prairie Dogs. They said that after my display of killing their leader and then killing one hundred of their men, they decided to devote to me as their leader. They only follow the strongest man that they see. To them, that would be me. As a sign of trust, they have carved my initial upon their forearms. They belong to me.”

Apollo did not seem pleased, nor displeased by this. It was likely that he just did not know what to think about it at all. 

Fleur turned his head slightly, not looking away from the group ahead of them. “Isocrates, Vien, Aein, Aturpat. What do you think.”

“Considering their body language, which is relatively calm compared to how they normally are, I would consider this okay. Helpful even. They are ruthless towards their enemies.” spoke Aein, likely also eyeing them. 

Fleur assumed that most of them would take Aein’s word for it. He, after all, knew the ways of the Prairie Dogs far better than anyone else. He was part of the reason they even made it through the plains alive.

“I agree,” Vien said simply.

Isocrates remained quiet for a moment but finally spoke up after a minute. “I do not know these people as well as Vien and Aein do, but I do not feel any threat from them if I consider my military training. I will agree as well.”

“I agree with all else,” said Aturpat.

“It is settled then. They ride on the eastern side. Tell them that any man of theirs that falls out of line, be it with mine or their own, I _will_ have them put down. No excuses. Let’s move.” Fleur kicked his horse gently and began walking once more, not even bothering to wait. The men ahead, when Fleur finally came upon them, parted to let him by. 

“You intimidate them,” Apollo says after the army had begun to move once more.

“They have every reason to be. I am the son of King Laurent. And such a lineage is not known to have a tolerance for those that have not proved themselves worthy. They’re going to have to earn their own respect. And after all, I do hold grudges. They nearly killed you. They’re going to have to start shitting bricks of gold for me to even consider showing them niceties.”

Apollo breathed out a chuckle. The ride continued on smoothly for the next day, then when the sun began to come closer to the horizon, they stopped to set up camp.

Set up had been a bit timely, but Fleur decided to let it slide for now as the trainees were still getting used to performing such tasks, and the more well-versed soldiers had to assist, which only made it longer. 

Fleur was in his tent, talking with the other princes when he saw Vien grow a bit green in the face. It was a bit strange to see the usually confident and smirking Dalmat suddenly become weak and sweaty in a matter of seconds. The prince practically ran out of the tent, leaving all inside to look about rather confusedly. Iso followed him out so only Aein, Apollo, Aturpat and he remained.

“I suppose we will find out after what’s happened. But my guess, he’s probably eaten something bad,” said Fleur before they continued on with their small meeting.

Isocrates returned after the meeting concluded to speak with Fleur alone looking rather worried. Fleur often saw him tense, fraught with distaste and unease in many moments of his life since he hit teenhood. But never had he seen him concerned, eyes filled with worry.

“What’s happened?” Fleur asked gently, standing from his seat to step towards his brother.

They’d made up at the end of the week after Fleur had begun training with the other soldiers. Iso had been regretful of what he’d said to Fleur, apologizing for being so rough on him. Fleur forgave him of course, saying that he actually wasn’t wrong. It may have been an almost literal kick in the ass, but it was what he needed to get himself in shape and ready for what was to come. They talked all through that night, and things were normal from then on.

“Vien...threw up. A lot. He does not feel well, even after. It’s been like this for a week now, and he’s been refusing to see a physician. I made him go this time, but who knows if they will even be able to figure out what it is. I am worried.”

This made Fleur frown. He was rather fond of his cousin, and it rather concerned him that the other was not well. Isocrates, deeply smitten with Vien, looked just as distraught.

“It could not be that bad. He seems fine throughout the day?”

Iso nods. “It’s usually only at night and sometimes in the morning. He tells me that he’s fine the rest of the day.” The man’s brows furrow in thought. “I just want to know what is going on…”

Before Fleur could speak, the tent flap is pushed aside, revealing Vien looking rather uneasy in the dim torchlight. Isocrates moves to bring the other in, having him sit down.

“Did they know what is wrong?” asked Isocrates, Fleur able to tell that he was controlling his voice as to not sound as frantic as he had a minute before.

“Yes. They did, almost immediately.” Vien said, looking grave, but somehow...still happy? It was not a look that he recognized. He’d never seen it on a person before, so it was hard to determine just what it meant.

“What is it?” asked Fleur before Iso could. Isocrates turned to look at him before looking back at Vien.

“It...turns out that I am with child.”

Fleur now understood what the look had meant. It all clicked, and he knew he needed to figure out a solution to it immediately.

“You’re...what?” asked Isocrates, looking stunned. 

“You’re going to be a father,” said Fleur, moving towards Vien.

“Are...you sure its mine?” asks Isocrates, quickly, looking ready to pass out.

Vien chuckled as he caressed his lover’s face. “I am positive. I have not had anyone in many, many months. Only you.”

Fleur was sure his brother would faint, but he didn't. No, instead the man just looked down at the ground, looking as though he were thinking hard. How he would react when he finally came to accept this, Fleur did not know, but he knew the other would not distance himself. Out of the three of them, Isocrates was always most responsible.

“I’m...going to be a father. I can’t believe it.” said the man after a while, looking at Vien again.

“I don’t know what you were expecting to happen after putting your cock in there,” said Fleur, receiving an immediate glance and roll of the eyes from his brother.

“I’ve warned him as well what coming inside could mean. Never stopped him though,” said Vien with a smirk.

Isocrates blushed and stood up. “Okay, it’s time to retire. Let us go, Vien. I’m sure my brother is tired.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. But you don’t have to sugarcoat that you want to fuck after finding this out.” joked Fleur.

Isocrates only grew redder, his already darkly tanned skin turning darker. “Okay, goodnight Fleur,” he said roughly as he walked swiftly, leaving the tent.

Vien and Fleur laughed together before Vien stood. “I see that you alright with this news.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Make a fit about it? You are my cousin, and he is my brother. I have no qualms with this. So long as you are both happy.” stated Fleur, smiling.

“And what of you? Are you happy? I know these past weeks have not been easy on you. Especially not with the soldier.”

Fleur’s smile disappeared. “I suppose he told you what happened.”

“He did. I meant to come sooner to talk with you about it, but planning really took all of my time.”

“It is alright. I hope you did not stress over it. I am fine. It is something I will not get over quickly, but I’ve come to accept that I can not always have what I want. He is out of my reach.”

Vien left and Fleur was left to dwell on his thoughts for the rest of the night.

Five days passed in this fashion. Travel all day, stop as the sun was setting, eat rations or the occasional hunk of meat if something could be caught before the sun went down. And then they'd pack up in the morning, heading out at dawn once again.

It was midday of the sixth day when a scout spotted five orange wagons in the distance over some hills. The retinue was halted and the five princes gathered around Fleur so they all could conclude on what to do.

“Should we send ahead someone? The scout said that they did not look hostile,” said Isocrates, looking at Fleur.

“Perhaps we should keep moving, to avoid losing time. We can't stop for every little thing. It's only 5 wagons.” said Vien

“Likely merchants” pitched Aein.

Something clicked in Fleur’s mind upon hearing Aein’s insight. Five orange wagons. He remembered a story from long ago that his father told him. Merchants his papa and father knew well with orange wagons that they had gifted for the sake of a scheme to halt a slave seller. He'd met the merchant a few times himself and it was someone he now greeted with familial glee anytime he saw him. 

But what was the possibility? These could have been any five orange wagons. The chances of it being him were low. And after all, it’d been a couple years since he’d last seen Charls. Guilluame was head of the merchant train now, but Charls still rode along with as he was the one with the renowned title.

“We’ll keep moving. Send a scout ahead to keep an eye on them,” said Fleur before he began at a walk once more, leaving the others to follow. A man was sent ahead at a canter.

By the time the man was halfway, Fleur was able to see the wagons in clear view in the distance. They would be passing by them at close proximity, but Fleur was not about to move his army for such a small group.

Fleur watched the wagon train from where he was at the front of the army. It was at a time like this that he wished merchants had colors to fly. At least then the anxiety built deep within his stomach could have rested. But instead, it built the closer they got, causing him to begin sweating just the slightest.

Then he saw it. A man came out from the side of the wagon. He was massive and familiar in shape, though he did not wear the regal drapes of a chiton, he was almost unmistakable. And then someone else came into view out the back of a wagon. Golden blonde hair, skin pampered and fair from what could be seen at such a distance. 

Fleur hadn’t realized his breathing had picked up tremendously, sweat now dripping down his forehead. It wasn’t possible...was it? He looked around for another sign that could help him to determine whether or not this was truly them.

The scout reached them, and Fleur could see the man straighten almost immediately. Someone else came from behind the wagon, similar in shape and close to the size of the first man.

It was them.

Without a second thought, Fleur kicked his heels into his horse and galloped off towards the wagon train. He could hear the calls of the other princes, but he did not stop nor think. The closer he got, the less they looked like barely coherent blurs shaped like people, and more like those he’d been wishing to see. It truly was them.

“Papa!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Love it? Let me know with a comment below!!!!!!  
> Also, consider supporting me with a coffee, so I can continue bringing content more freely and frequently!!! https://ko-fi.com/sitical


	18. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it seems the light has come back but it is threatening once more to blind the moon from its existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAYYYY. Alright, so here's the low-down. I had decided it was a great idea to do 12 units of credit for summer school....this translates to a literal six weeks of HELL. So, i may not be posting as frequently, which was about once a week this past couple months. So don't you guys worry yourselves! The fic has not died! I'm just killing myself over piles of homework, and I am working on the fic when i can! <3  
> With that said, enjoy chapter 18!  
>  **And dont forget to cast your votes for the bonus chapters!** https://goo.gl/forms/X1odB5K1X7fWCBpt1

It was in a burst of energy that Fleur practically leaped from his horse into Damen’s arms, squeezing him tightly around the neck. Though it was a rather warm day, the warmth of his Papa’s arms was welcome and dearly missed. He could feel loving kisses being placed all along cheeks and hair, Damen spoke in rapid-fire Akielon about how he had thought he had lost his son forever to the fates of the cruel world. 

Fleur was placed on the ground so that Laurent could take him up next. Laurent held him so tightly, mumbling such sad stories of missing him, thinking he was long since dead, of never being able to hold his youngest son in his arms ever again. Fleur began to cry, remembering that he once thought the same of them. 

The galloping and sliding stop of a horse came from behind, and Fleur had only just been allowed to turn and see Isocrates jumping from his horse to slam into Damocles in a crushing embrace. Damen joined them, hugging Iso tightly to himself then pulling back to look over him for any injury. They all came together as a family and hugged as tightly as they could, Fleur ending up directly in the middle of the pit, being squished in between them all. Not that he minded one bit.

It was when everyone finally pulled away that Fleur really got to examine the wear and injury his missing family had taken. Laurent had a scar running across the side of his neck, it had very obviously been very close to hitting the mark and robbing Fleur of his father as well as one small cut along his right eye. It was still scabbed over, but would probably eventually fade to nothing. His hair was also cut short, likely to keep himself disguised at a distance and for easier maintenance on the road. Damen’s left eye was covered by a cloth tied around his head, and Fleur could only imagine the gory sight that lays behind it. He was covered in month old healing cuts, but was alive, and that that was all that mattered. Damocles seemed fine completely, so he supposed that the most he’d gotten were a lot of bruising and maybe a few small cuts. They were all alive and relatively okay. 

Damocles pushed passed them upon spotting someone else come from the paused retinue. Fleur turned to watch him run up to the Auburn gelding and pull a beautiful long haired redhead from the saddle, kissing him eagerly. Fleur saw now what Aein meant by ‘friend’ when he named his reason for helping. The way the pair kissed and held onto each other for dear life, he knew it was something equivalent to love. Isocrates brought Vien over to meet Damen and Laurent, as well as his twin brother. They accepted the Dalmat prince almost immediately, thanking him for keeping their sons safe. 

All seemed well. Until Damen lifted his gaze from his family to someone coming towards them. Fleur spotted the man almost immediately, and he felt his stomach drop, tightening enough to make him feel sick when Damen reached for his sword. Metal was drawn as Damen stepped in front of his family.

“Who the fuck let one of these mongrels escape death?.” Damen growled, staring Apolotus down. Apolotus did not move from where he stood a distance away.

Fleur tried to speak up but was drowned out by the commotion of his father pushing his family behind him. 

“King Damianos, I am Apolotus. I--”

“No one cares who you are, you’re going to die. Right here, right now. Draw!” Damen yelled, raising his sword.

Fleur came forward, placing his hand on Damen’s forearm. “Papa, no, he saved us! He’s good!”

Damen pushed Fleur back. “Stay back Fleur. There is no such thing as a good Azrulean. Look at what they’ve done. They tore us apart, ripped us from our kingdom. They have been tearing apart families for generations, I won't let this one rip us apart again. The only good Azrulean is a dead one.”

Apolotus looked to Fleur, sadness in his eyes. “I will not fight you. I have served my purpose in returning your son.”

Fleur thought it had been a good statement, but all he needed was to take a glance at Damen to know that that was not what the man heard. Damen looked far more furious.

“So you steal my fucking son to go and spew lies about how you saved him so he’d believe you and let you into his pants? Is that what it fucking was? You will die now for stealing my son’s innocence.”

Fleur screamed and tried to bolt forward to stop Damen as the man charged towards Apolotus, but Laurent’s hand grabbed his waist and pulled him away from intervening in the fight. 

“DRAW!” Fleur yelled at Apolotus, who did so in a flash of gleaming steel, parrying the first slash.

Damen swiped and clashed his sword in powerful repeating blows, forcing Apolotus back as he tried to block each sweeping attack. But upon the first chance he got, Apolotus took his first attack, now gaining leverage and momentum to fight back. Damen normally had someone subdued within the first thirty seconds, but it was not so with Apolotus. The Azrulean practiced and was taught to fight both Veretian and Akielon fighting styles, equivalent in ability was able to keep up and land powerful strokes.

Finally, Apolotus pulled a power move, surprising Damen enough to knock him to the ground and send his sword flying. Apollo was about to pull back and likely sheath his sword so as to not further provoke, but he ended up having to dodge yet another blade coming for his unprotected side. The strikes were like that of a cobra, far too close, far too fast, dizzying in his attempt to block and predict the next move Laurent had stepped in, face stoic as he made for another attack on Apollo, who barely was able to parry the attack. The attacks were not powerful but could kill if he wasn’t careful. Finding an opening this time was next to impossible.

Before anyone knew it, fancy footwork had Apollo on the ground, his sword flew through the air towards Fleur and his brothers. A murderous slash was about to come down upon him. In an instant Fleur moved without thinking, sword in hand as the loud clash of hard metal meeting metal rang out.

Fleur pushed Laurent back with a sophisticated attack, the two paused for a second before continuing. Fleur came in with an onslaught of powerful attacks he’d only learned a few weeks before, overwhelming Laurent who was having a hard time keeping up his parries, obviously shocked with the reality for fighting his indoor son He may never have been too good with the sword, but he had very good footwork and had grown a stamina for a whirlwind of attacks meant to overwhelm the opponent. 

A sword was sent arrowing into the dirt a few feet away, Fleur’s sword pointing at Laurent. “He...is my friend. My savior. My soldier. No one will harm him. Not my fathers nor my brothers. He has delivered me safely from the Azrulean War King Decimus’ hands, brought me to Hamar, trained me to fight. If it were not for him, I would be dead and you would have no army or allies to retake our home.”

Fleur let out a gust of air from his nostrils before sheathing his sword. Turning around, he offers a hand to Apolotus, as the man still sat on the ground looking completely stunned. The offer was taken and the soldier stood, Fleur turning back to face his family once more. 

“He has taken nothing from me but has given me everything he could. He’s given me my life and his own life. A shoulder to cry on, arms to hold onto when I could not handle things on my own, skills that I could never learn in the palace. He’s given me an army worthy of a king, and the means to take back what his king had taken from us. If you kill him, you will kill me. 

Damo steps up with his own sword raised. Fleur looks over to see Iso and Vien over on his side while Damen, Laurent, Damos, and Aein on the other. The family split.

“How do we know he isn’t a spy, sending his king information and feeding you lies about the battlefield?”

Fleur stood strong and firm in his position, “I trust Apolotus with my life and with my kingdom if it were to come to that. He has risked everything to keep me alive. It’s up to you. Whether you approve or not, he and I will be riding to Akielos-Vere, we will kill Decimus, with or without you.”

Damen and Laurent looked on with a bit of shock, speaking quietly to each other for a second before agreeing.

“If he means this much to you Fleur, then very well. I don’t know all of what has happened, but we are with you now. We will join you. And him.” 

Damen did what Fleur thought impossible when he picked up his sword and sheathed it, approaching Apollo after. “Thank you for saving my son and bringing him back to me.” 

Damen held out his hand in an offering of peace. Apollo accepts it and gets dragged close to Damen. Fleur couldn't hear the words his father was obviously threatening Apollo with, but it must have been rather bad with the way Apollo’s face grew as pale as Fleur himself.

#  ⚚⚚⚚⚚

That afternoon, just before sunset, they came to a stop. Everyone was working to set up camp, erecting tents, starting fires, beginning dinner, and taking account of everything. 

Fleur was on his horse, riding along the lines of tents, keeping an eye on things. It was a normal thing for an occasional skirmish among soldiers, disagreements bound to happen. But what hadn’t been expected was when he came back around to his tent, he saw that his brother was taking an offensive position against Apollo.

“What were you doing in there. Waiting for him to come back so you can take him? Not in my wake.” growled Damos.

Apollo was trying to make himself look unthreatening as he could but seemed rather difficult considering his size. “No, I was not. I was just delivering my report. I--” 

“I don’t believe you. I don't believe scum like you would ever crawl out of your pit of piss and shit. You will not touch my baby brother ever again”

“I could never with him,” said Apollo. No one really knew what set off Damos off, but the teen charged and slammed into the Azrulean, wrestling him to the ground. It was a quick brawl, Apollo not fighting back, but rather taking a defensive position on the ground, blocking his face and throat. Isocrates was the one to pull his brother up and drag him off to the side.

“What the hell is wrong with you. Why are you trying to start fights.” Fleur heard Isocrates say. Damos was being difficult, which was very unlike him. He was usually the calmest and most peaceful of the three of them, but it seemed that all of the pressure of what’s happened had changed him. He tries to escape Isocrates grasp to attack Apollo who was now standing and came to Fleur’s side.

Fleur got an idea when he looked around to see some men in the distance, arm wrestling. “Alright, how about instead of a stupid little brawl that will get no one anywhere, how about we stay for another day here. We will have an event of Games, to ease the masculine inclination to assert dominance. As it seems apparent that is what’s going on. I’m tired of fighting. So it will be done. Go back to your tents and sleep. Or don’t, I don’t care, but dont dare think of fighting again.”

Fleur appointed someone to go around and have people sign up, then he retired to his tent, asking Apollo to accompany him. The flap closed behind them.

“I’m sorry you keep ending up on the receiving end of my families fists...and swords. I was hoping that...maybe they’d listen and take my word for it. They did not. I...I hope maybe tomorrow will resolve...something.”

Apollo stood at the entrance, seeming to just watch him from where he was, likely not wanting to come in further to avoid anything else happening at the wrong place and the wrong time. “No, do not apologize. It is not your fault. As soon as I realized that it was them...and they were truly alive, I expected every bit of this. I would have never expected them to welcome me with open arms. To them, I am just an Azrulean, and there is nothing but evil hatred in every Azrulean.”

Fleur shook his head and took a step towards Apolotus. “But I expect them to at least hear me out. I am their son. But I have only been pushed aside, told to stay quiet and let it happen.” Fleur’s head dropped a bit, his eyes watering up a bit. “I would have died for you….right there if it meant they would have listened to me...trusted me, just once.”

He’d been upset about it since it happened but tried his best to not let it bother him. And yet, here he was, cracking, splitting in two as yet another fight had broken out between his family and someone he’d grown so close to. The moment his family had been whole again Fleur was the one to split it apart. He was once again tossed aside, not a word coming from his mouth mattering even in the slightest. Why would it? It was just helpless little Prince Blanchefleur, far too shelter to know anything.

“I love my family...and I’ve missed them so much. But even when so much time has passed, nothing has changed. They still don’t listen to me. I’ve done all of this for them...for our country, and it’s still not enough to be considered as more than someone that needs to be protected.”

By now, tears flowed freely down his pink cheeks as he stared at the floor. He felt as though all of his hard work had just come crashing down, left in a pile of ruins. It was hopeless. “Crying like this, no wonder they keep treating me like a child.”

Then Apollo came forward, pulling him close without the hesitancy he normally had. He was there, warm and gentle, arms secure around him to make him feel safe. And it worked.

“You have done what you could...and yet you keep fighting for more because it what needs to be done, even when it should be impossible,” said Apollo, holding him tighter. “You have stood stronger and taller than any man I have ever seen. When someone is knocked from their pedestal, from their place that they’d grown so comfortable with, they don't come back for another fight the minute they are able to. You have been taken so far from home, alone with a stranger. Practically alone to deal with everything. You took every blow given to you, and you always stand back up. Never giving up. You don’t need protection, and you never did. You needed guidance. And Fleur, if you don't go out there and tell them that, then I will myself. Whatever the consequences, because you deserve so much more.”

Fleur looked up at him with teary eyes, his brow just slightly furrowed. Apollo, he’d realized, had up until now, had always been encouraging him. He was always on his side.

“Why…” Fleur mumbled.

“Why what?”

“Why are you always...there for me with just the right words to say. Why do you believe in me like this when I’ve brought you nothing in return but constant headaches.”

Apolotus smiled so warmly, Fleur felt his stomach flutter. “Because...I told you before. I love you. You have no idea how I’ve watched you grow. And yet, there was always something else that had just always been there. You’re a whirlwind of emotions and strength. And if I can be so bold, I’d say anyone is a fool to not stand behind you. You may still have a lot of growing up to do, but I know one day, you will be a force unlike any other. I hope to find myself there with you when that day comes.”

Never in his life had he heard someone speak of him like this. With all of the fondness of a lover, a friend, a soulmate. A force he may have already been, but he could not contain the tears from spilling once more from his eyes, like rivers into the ocean. He sobbed and buried his face into Apolotus’ chest.

“You’re always so full of life Fleur. And I hope you fight to keep it that way. You’ll grow, and change, but I hope the spirit in you never does.”

Fleur gripped onto his shirt tightly. “Shut up...I already can’t breath...y-you make me cry so much. Stupid.”

Apolotus chuckled. “You know...I’d give up everything...and do it all again just to be here with you.”

Fleur lifted his head and looked up at Apolotus with a smile, his eyes still red and wet from crying. “And where would I be without you?”

“Lost and alone...or dead. At least that’s what you say. I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are too stubborn to die.”

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The next morning, the field was set, weapons polished and ready to go. Competitors were gathered for the first event, which was spears. Vien competed in this one and was actually neck and neck with a man from the Feltian retinue. Aturpat was a close third. Short sword was won by Apolotus, as was long sword. Isocrates won trident, and Fleur really showed off a supreme shot in archery, which likely would have been rivaled by Aturpat had he competed in this one as well.

Finally, the last event before the Okton came. Wrestling. They went by the Akielon custom and fought naked. The Feltian’s were nearly scandalized but seemed to decide to rather be more interested than disgusted by these strange activities. 

Apolotus felt Damocles’ eyes on him all throughout, his eyes like a painful beam burning into his skull. And then it was their turn. They were matched up because of their similar builds, and therefore, we now on the field. Apollo was used to being scarcely dressed as that was the type of wears they normally had in Azrule, but nudity in front of so many people was a whole other thing.

His skirts, cingulum, and subligaria were removed, and oil was slicked over him. He couldn’t believe he was naked in front of everyone and was going to wrestle with Fleur’s older brother, who was equally as naked. Apolotus glanced to the erected dais where the Kings and Princes sat. Surely enough, Fleur was staring right at him, a little smirk on his face. 

Apolotus looked back at the man before him. Damocles looked like a caged animal, staring him down, ready to bite as soon as the gate opened. They leaned forward and grabbed onto each other, forehead to forehead. 

Start was called, and they began heaving. Apolotus kept his stance wide, unwilling to give his all until he knew what the other was capable of. Damocles was strong, far stronger than Isocrates, and the force of the teen's heaving against him was hard to hold. Apolotus finally moved in, both going to the ground, slipping and sliding around on each other. There were times Apolotus was sure Damos had gotten him, but he still managed to wiggle out. The opportunity for victory came when Damos started to get frustrated.

Apollo did not wait. He took opportunity, gripping onto the other and slammed him into the ground with a great thud. He locked him onto the ground and huffed when the other finally gave his last heaving breath and gave in. The fight was won.

The onlookers cheered and clapped for him as he let Damocles go. Apolotus stood, offering a hand to Damocles. The other glanced at him before taking the offer. What was surprising was that Damos was smiling a bit. 

“You surprised me...For an Azrulean...you’re actually a good fighter.” the teen admitted.

“I do what I have to.”

Damos left the field to have the oil scraped off. Apolotus turned to the dais, standing tall, muscles glistening in the sun. 

“If I recall Akielon customs well enough if a man wins three events, he may challenge the king to combat. I wish to challenge King Damianos.”

The audience was in awe. The attention was on Damianos. The man didn’t look surprised in the least.

“Very well,” said Damen as he stood up from his seat, allowing the servants to remove the chest plate and the leather skirts until he was bare, save for his eyepatch. It seemed Damianos did not want to show off what was left behind of what was likely a nasty attack. Stepping down onto the grass, he stood before Apolotus, spreading oil upon himself. “I will humor you. You may have defeated one of my sons, and you have somehow had my other two come to call you friend. I am none of them.”

They got into position, then began to heave at the signal, both working to get the other onto the ground. Damen was the first to go down, Apollo having found a slight weakness that was not sight related, as he was not the kind of person to play like that. Even though he was down, Damen did not go easy, pulling Apollo down with him as he went. They struggled about the ground, grips slipping, reaching, again and again, to grab and hold down.

Damen was giving it his all to hold Apolotus down, the younger being just as strong as he’d likely been at this age, if not stronger. But nonetheless, Damen held on, Apolotus being no match regardless for someone as experienced as he. Damen brought Apolotus to the ground and got him into a very specific grip. It was still a long struggle to keep the younger there, his strength and endurance far too great. But eventually, Damen cut off part of his breathing and he went still. Damen let him go before he passed out, standing up. 

As done before, a hand was extended to the man on the ground, Apolotus looking at it with surprise. He took it, standing up, faltering a little as he was still trying to capture his breath. 

“As my son said. You are surprisingly good. And very strong. I suppose...I should be grateful that you have been there watching over my youngest. Though I am still unsure about you being so near in this time of crisis.”

“Exalted, I will watch and care for your son till my dying breath, I am loyal to his claim to the throne.”

It was while the oil was being scraped from his body that Fleur stepped towards him, smiling with a great admiration. “That was quite an accomplishment. You took down my brother...The undefeated Prince for two years straight at each of the seasonal games. You gave the crowd quite a show against my father. You truly are a barbarian, taking on the two strongest men in my lands.”

Apolotus smirked and shook his head. “Despite his age,” he glanced towards Damianos, who was being scraped of oil a short distance away. “He still has got one hell of a grip. I don’t think I would be able to beat him fair and square by the time I am able to gain such experience. The rumors are true.”

At some point, he saw that Fleur’s gaze had slipped from his eyes and was slowly traveling down his body until it came to a rest far lower than the teen would ever get to explore with his hands.

“My eyes are up here Fleur,” says Apolotus with a little grin.

“Yes, I know,” said Fleur, nonchalantly. “But it is rather hard not to look when one sees a man is half aroused from exertion.”

Apollo’s eyes grow wide and he blushes, immediately feeling as though he should cover up.

Fleur looks back up at him with a sly little smile after a second. “Have to get in what I can though, while I can. One of the best things about the Akielon culture is the nudity. I can look all I want but I know I can’t touch.”

“Fleur--”

“Yes yes, I know. I like getting you all riled up. Not to mention...it’s not like I haven’t seen you before--”

“Apolotus!” Isocrates budded in, a grin on his face. It was a rather rare sight to see. “I can’t believe you did that. Perhaps now I can believe you really did kill one hundred men by yourself..”

His armor was placed back on him and he was able to engage in a friendly resting of arms on each others shoulders.

“Why have you not believed it before? I brought your ass to the ground in a mere half minute.” Apollo let out a laugh, Iso joining him with a shake of the head.

Fleur stood there, watching them interact, analyzing them like he’d seen him do before with things he was particularly interested in, but also as if he were expecting more, yet was disappointed in not receiving. He had an idea of what the teen was feeling, but the boy did not voice any of it.

“Well, I should go change. The Okton begins soon.”

Apollo cocked his head a bit, looking a little confused. “Oh right. I heard of the event, but I do not know what exactly is or how it is played.”

“Iso, you can explain it to him. I’ll see you two at the start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Love it? Consider supporting me with a coffee or two, so i can continue bringing content to you easily and frequently! I am a college student, so every dollar counts! https://ko-fi.com/N4N1AOF0


	19. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the time Blanchefleur was building an army, his family was busy surviving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello, I am alive. Summer school has murdered me temporarily. I was slowly writing this chapter in the past 3 weeks, now I can bring it all to you~ I still have 2 more weeks of summer school left, but things are starting to slow down, so I can have more free time to write! So expect chapter 20 to come sooner than this had!  
> ALSO, this was meant to be an 18.5 sort of chapter. but of course you cant make .5 chapters on AO3 lmao  
> Enjoy!

The day had been going quite well. Laurent was proud to say that his two boys Isocrates and Damocles were now adults. Having spent two years out gaining experience from the world, they came back, no longer the little boys he remembered, but fine young men who were ready for adulthood.

He watched them mingle in the courtyard, charming their guests, bringing happiness with their sunny smiles. He never knew he could feel such a sense of pride, having raised and disciplined them into perfect men. He realized then that he had been so swept up in his pride for his two eldest sons, he’d forgotten to check in on his youngest, who was likely brewing up a storm somewhere in the courtyard

It was a while that he looked for the small teen, knowing he would be hard to miss with his extravagant clothing, but to no avail, he did not find his boy. Laurent discreetly asked the servants to keep an eye out for him. It was then that it happened; A rain of arrows came from over the high walls that surrounded the courtyards, their range making it obvious that they were from longbows. He managed to duck under a cover to avoid getting hit. When the barrage ended, he went into protective mode, going to find his family.

There were foreign troops spilling in from the west gates, so he unsheathed the elegant sword from his side, and prepared to fight. He caught sight of Damen coming out from the castle, massive sword in hand. They both fought until the forces became overwhelming, Damen eventually grabbing Laurent to retreat. Laurent fought him for a second, yelling that their sons were still here. They couldn’t leave them. 

“They can handle themselves! If they aren't here now, then they already escaped!” Damen began dragging Laurent along, fighting anyone that got in their way. They managed to reach the stables, a stray intruder stopping them abruptly. Damen pushed Laurent behind him, then went in for the kill. The fight went on for a while and Damen was exhausted, his age beginning to catch up to him. He was cut over and over again, unable to keep steady nor dodge each onslaught. One particular swing came too close, putting him on his knees, a hand over the eye now spilling blood. Before a final blow could be landed, Laurent stepped in-- equally as exhausted. The soldier got in a single blow that slid past his neck, cutting the skin there. Laurent killed him before any more damage could be done. 

Though his neck was bleeding a great deal, he still forced himself to heave up his husband and lead him to the horses. The pair managed onto the first stallions available and rode off as fast as they could go, disappearing into the surrounding forests.

They kept a steady pace, trying to get as far away as they could until their horses tired out, to which they stopped at the nearest village that was not Marlas, which still quite some ways away in the direction they were headed. They had to stop to disguise themselves, so Laurent ripped off a sleeve to wrap it around Damens head for his eye and the other sleeve was torn off to help stop the bleeding on his neck. They needed to find a physician and quickly. Laurent cut his hair short with the blade of his sword, leaving it choppy, then the headed off. Damen was barely holding himself up by the time they reached a physician.

Laurent didn’t know how much they really had to do to Damen, but when he was finally able to see him, the man had fresh bandages wrapped tightly around his head, covering his eye. Eyes were not an easy part of the body to save, they all knew it. 

They slept there that night, Laurent allowing Damen to rest before they would have to move on. There was no doubt that they would be hunted down and killed to avoid any resistance uprising. They had to stay on the move. Days later, Damen was well enough to begin traveling, and it was then that Laurent realized what happened; They left behind their home that they built, everything that they had gained in the last 18 years. Laurent had abandoned his kingdom to save his own life. He has essentially left his sons and his kingdom to die in his stead. 

He tried to convince Damen that they needed to go back and find them, to make sure they were safe. Damen held him back, gripping him hard by the shoulder.

“Laurent, no. We cannot go back. They will kill us for sure if we do. We need to leave.” said Damen.

“But they are our sons. They could need our help and all we are doing is running away to save our own lives,” argued Laurent. 

“If we die, they will have no parents to come back to. A kingdom needs a King and our sons still need their fathers. Do you really think so little of them? I believe that we have taught them to be strong, how to live and survive; they would have escaped and will be finding a way to us soon.”

Laurent shook his head. “Not Fleur!” he yelled, stepping back from Damen. “He’s not like us! He...he cannot fight. He’s helpless there without us. I fear he may already have perished...or worse…”

“Or worse? Is the prospect of our son used as a slave worse than death?”

Laurent froze at this. It was nothing he wanted to think about. His poor son, helpless to fight against men, being roughed up, used, however, these monsters wanted to. Not everyone was like Damen, or himself. 

“But he--”

“Laurent.” Damen stopped him from trying to turn, pulling him close to himself. “I’m sorry...but we can’t. We must keep going and put as much distance as we can until we can figure out what to do. Have some faith in our children. I’ve seen Fleur handle himself in a lion's den for a council; Seen him make things happen that I know only one other person would have been able to pull off. There is nothing he can’t do, including survive. Believe in him, and worry about yourself.”

Laurent looked up at his husband with sad eyes, knowing he was right. It would do them no good to go back now. He would just have to hope they all would eventually turn up.

For days, Laurent thought of nothing but his children, worrying for their safety. Much of his worry was lifted, however, when someone turned up at their small camp, alone on horseback. Laurent knew that tuft of curly hair anywhere and immediately dropped his sword to pull his son close. Damocles was in better shape than he imagined after the attack, with only a bandaged arm for a scrape from an arrowhead. There was plenty of bruising spread over him, but otherwise, the boy was fine and Laurent could not have been more grateful.

They traveled day after day, never staying in one place for too long, even when they were staying out in the forests on the border of Patras. They were slowly making their way southward to Ios but got word that the borders were tightening their security. And at this point, who knew who they could trust.

It was speaking of trust that they just happened to come across an inn with five orange wagons left to rest in the yard. The wagons were well cared for and despite eighteen years having passed, they were still in very good shape. Upon entering, they indeed spotted a group of merchants sitting around a large table in the dining area. Damen took care of the room while Laurent walked into the room, looking to catch a glimpse of a particularly well-dressed merchant old in age. Recognition spread across a few faces, great smiles brightening the room. 

“Charls!” greeted Guillaume.

An older man, looked up from his deep discussion on taxes with bright eyes, seeming to gleam. “Cousin Charls! My, has it been quite some time! Come, sit!”

Charls, despite his old age, had not lost his spark a single bit. He was mostly greyed on the head, wrinkles that came with age and the finest materials making up his clothes.

“Charls, yes, it is good to see you again. I’m so glad to see that you are well.”

“I am glad to see the same of you! Oh, and this must be Lamen’s son, correct?”

“Yes,” said Laurent, pulling Damocles forward. “Lamoles”

“Please let us sit and chat a while away from the discourses of merchant life.”

They moved off to a corner table where there was no one sitting nearby and began to discuss the unfortunate events that have occurred. Charls, being the traveler, moving through towns, had plenty of gossip and news that Laurent could not get his hands on himself. 

Damen eventually joined them and they all discussed what plans are being made to retake the kingdom. Laurent had to confess that he really had no plan but to keep what was left of his family hidden and find a way into Ios safely to get assistance from Nikandros.

“Well, if you would like, you can travel with us. It will keep you on the move and with a disguise we all can vouch for.” offered Charls.

Damen and Laurent at each other, speaking quietly before coming to a decision. “That sounds like a good idea. When do you leave?”

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

After that, they stuck with Charls, working alongside them under the guise of Younger Charls, Lamen, and Lamoles, merchants just needing something to do with themselves after their wares and home burned. 

One night, a night they spent out by a stream eating their fill of roasted lamb, cheese, and wine, Laurent lay there on his bedroll staring up through the tree canopy. Everyone had long since fallen asleep, except for him. 

Eventually, he gave up on trying to sleep and stood, walking down to the stream to wash his face with water. Sitting down on a rock after, he sighed, looking up at the night sky. It was clear, bright with stars as the moon was only a crescent. This had been a routine of his ever since they'd been chased out from the palace. He barely slept anymore, thinking of nothing but his children. His country would survive this, he would survive this, as would Damen and Damos. But as for his other two sons, he was not positive of their fates. No one knew anything about Isocrates or Blanchefleur.

Closing his eyes, he did something he did not do often. He swore revenge. Whether or not anything or anyone would hear him, he did not know, but he did it anyway. He wanted to believe that somewhere, his children were alive. That Isocrates had found Fleur and they were hiding away somewhere, waiting to hear about them building up their forces to retake their home. And when they were finished, they would reunite and he could hold all of his family again. Stroke Fleur’s hair, watch Isocrates outwit his opponents, Damos charming everyone in his wake. To make love with Damen again like they used to when they weren’t so desperate to lose their minds for a little while. 

After so long, he eventually began to feel a prickling in his mind. It felt like someone was speaking to him. He could not hear them if there even was anyone, but for some reason, this feeling gave him great comfort.

Opening his eyes, he smiled as he stared up at the glittering stars. It was a beautiful night.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

_“I know you’re out there somewhere...and you don’t know it yet, but I’m coming with an army behind me. I don’t care what I must do. I will get you back, and I will bring any man that gets in my way to his knees. I am no prince worthy to rule, but I am also not one to give up. Just hold out...for a little longer...wherever you are.” swore Fleur as he looked to the night sky._

_The breeze picked up more, blowing in a warm gust that felt much like an embrace. It had to have been a sign._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Love it? Send me some love with a coffee or two! because every dollar counts for a college student lmao! Ko-fi.com/sitical


	20. Chapter 19: What Lies Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to take a stand and speak louder. There is no longer time to stand idly. There is a war at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! YASSS.  
> So, here's the motherfahjdskfdlggfkjd TEA folks. Summer school MURDERED me. Taking a Nutrition class, an English class, AND a math class that's all crammed into 6 weeks....yeah...there was bound to be some repercussions.  
> BUT  
> I have revived now that I have had a small break and am now attending a normal semester of school.  
> SO HERE IS CHAPTER 19. AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT. THE WAR IS UPON US. DON'T MISS IT!!!!

All tensions faded after the day of the games. Any doubts any man might have had about their allies were now mostly, if not completely, dissipated. Except for Laurent. He was still uneasy about the affectionate way his son sidled up to the Azrulean prince’s side, never leaving it unless the other Azrulean was there. He just did not understand the appeal.

The night before they were to attempt to cross into the Ios border, Laurent found himself alone in his son’s tent, awaiting him to return from where he was happily enjoying one possibly last night of fun. He did not see the boy drinking and he wondered if that was only in consideration that he and Damen were around, or if he just never found the taste of wines and spirits appealing. When he finally did arrive, it was not too late into the night. Laurent recalled Fleur never did have a stamina for long parties. As good as he was with socializing and seemed to enjoy it, he could never stay for long.

“Have fun?” asked Laurent, looking at his son from where he was casually sitting on a chair at the table with rolled maps and a bowl of fruit. He was already helping himself to an apple, halfway finished with eating it.

Fleur did not pause, not even seeming to be surprised that he was here. This was likely his smooth, unfaltering side that he gracefully inherited from Laurent. He never did let things like that show. “Of course. You should have been there. Damos did the cup trick. He managed 4 cups and a helm this time.”

“You loved those tricks as a babe,” said Laurent, recalling it rather fondly.

“I still do. Perhaps that is childish of me though.” Fleur was smoothly mocking him, having set him up, Laurent realized. He was getting better at this every day.

“It is not childish to enjoy little things. What is, however, is to trust a man you don’t know.”

Again, without faltering, Fleur retorted, “You would know all about that wouldn’t you.”

Too young, too sharp. Or maybe he was just getting old and senile already. Perhaps he was losing his touch. “It is not the same.”

“Isn’t it though? You didn’t know Papa. And you had absolutely no real reason to trust him enough to bring him with you. And yet, here you are.”

“I knew enough of him. It is very different. Do not play these games. Do not act like you know precisely what you are doing. I know you don’t.” Laurent was beginning to become irate by his son's complete lack of understanding. He was too young to be in this situation.

“I know enough, as you say. Now, what do you want? To tear me down? Tell me I can’t do this? I will knock your sword from your hand each and every time until you believe me that I can. Or perhaps it is Apolotus that plagues you? I believe we have settled this before.”

Laurent stood. “You are too young. And he is an Azrulean.”

“You were too stiff, and he was an Akielon. What is the difference? If you are worried about him fucking me, trust me, it isn’t happening, and never will. He does not want me.”

“I believe that this is a trap. He is trying to gain your trust.”

Fleur scoffed. “Him? Try? He wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence if I wasn’t forcing myself at his side. I choose where to put myself, and no one can change that. Not even you. I stand with him.”

“You--”

“Just stop. For once in your life, stop and look around you. You believe I am too young and naive to accomplish anything. You always have. Everyone always has. I am sick and tired of being treated like a porcelain teapot. I am not the delicate little flower that you have to protect from even droplets of rain. I can and I will handle myself. I am done being pampered and treated like I'm worthless. I have picked up a sword, and with it, I’m carving my way back into Marlas. I don’t care what it takes. No man takes my home from me. Father, I love you. Apolotus will help me fight for this cause; Will you?”

Laurent was speechless; something rarely achieved. The adorable little baby with golden hair, flowers tucked behind his ear, asking him for a story now stood before him as a warrior. A formidable opponent, ready strike the moment he needs. Posed to fight. He was thinner now, Laurent realized, and had bits of muscle on him, enough to fight. His son had grown and he wondered why he had not realized it before.

“I am always with you. No matter what. If this is something you believe completely, then I will believe it too.”

Fleur lifted his head, chin up confidently. “I do. With every fiber of my being. I will fight.”

Laurent could not take his eyes off the boy--...no. He was no longer a boy. He was something stronger. 

“Look at you. I can’t believe I...missed this. I missed watching you grow. Last time I saw you-you were still a boy, now you stand as grown,”

“Well, I cannot say I have learned everything. I still have more room, and you still have time left with me.” Fleur smiled at Laurent, and all Laurent could feel was pride. 

The two came together and hugged tightly, Laurent kissing his son’s head happily. He was so proud of how well Fleur had come along, even though it all happened without him there. Maybe the Azrulean was good for something after all. Maybe after all of this was done, he could allow himself to thank the man for all he’s done for him and his family.

“Tell me a story,” said Fleur, his voice muffled by the fabric of Laurent’s shirt. 

“What kind?” asked Laurent, nuzzling his son's silky soft hair. He smelt like the burning apple wood of the outdoors, far different from the fragrances and perfumes of floral extracts that Fleur loved to wear.

“A love story…”

They both manage to fit themselves on Fleur’s cot, and it was like things used to be again. Laurent told Fleur a detailed story about young love, schemes and the spiraling plot that eventually comes around to a happy ending. It was Fleur’s favorite, and it was always without fail that he managed to fall asleep by the end. 

Laurent combed through the boy’s long hair with his fingers, just enjoying his presence. He was seeing his baby again, remembering that very early morning when he finally got to see his son’s face. He was the most beautiful child he’d ever seen with the most wonderful eyes. His first little smile, his cheerful laughing. Those were memories he would hold with him until his last breath. 

Kissing his head one last time, Laurent slipped out of the cot and covered Fleur with a blanket before leaving the tent. The camp had died down, most of the men having retired for the night. He saw across the way, a large man standing with his arms crossed. He was alone, staring down at the dwindling fire with such an intensity that could set the embers ablaze. Laurent saw in him something he remembers seeing at some point in his life, but he wasn't quite sure where. Apolotus looked up and made eye contact with Laurent. That second lasted a lifetime before Laurent stepped into his tent where his husband was awaiting him.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The plan was to approach the border, colors flying as high and brightly as they could manage. They were Fleur’s colors, an unmissable white with a gold moon and star. They flew no other colors. And Fleur risked putting himself at the front of the retinue to convince the border patrol that it indeed was their prince. The approach was slow, and Fleur felt just the slightest twinge of anxiety. He did not want to die here on the border, not after all of this work. 

The call to stop was sounded as men from the border marched forward, weapons at the ready to attack. Fleur and Isocrates rode forward to announce themselves. Fleur removed his helmet, revealing unmistakable golden hair and piercing blue and hazel eyes. Swords were dropped immediately. 

“My prince… you live.” said one of them, all removing themselves from their mounts to bow. 

“As do I.” Isocrates removed his helmet as well, only causing more disbelief, but also a relief. 

“The Kyros will be so glad to hear of this. We will escort you to Ios, to save you time and hassle of the checkpoints.” 

From there, they moved inwards, making a beeline for Ios as quickly as they could manage with the number of men they had. Laurent, Damianos, and Damocles were kept hidden within the lines of soldiers. When they finally reached Ios, the white city's streets were lined with disbelieving faces, shocked that the youngest prince had survived the attack. Isocrates was also alive and well, and was a cause for celebration.

They rode directly up to the steps of the Ios palace. Fleur did not dismount. Instead, he turned to the square, chin up, facing the many Akielons watching, waiting. “Good people of Ios. I have come bearing an army of my own people, and I encourage you to join us when the time arises. We are going to bring these mongrels to their knees and return what is rightfully ours.”

He dismounts then and goes up the steps to the palace, Isocrates and a group of soldiers following behind. Had this been 2 months before, he would have felt regal as he swept through the halls towards the council room where he knew the council of Ios and his uncle Nikandros, the Kyros, were waiting. But he was not the kid that thought like that anymore. He walked into the room with a hardened look, the council members standing to bow. His eyes slowly took in every face in the room. Fleur recognizes each and every one from his time spent here visiting with Nikandros. He had to trust blindly that none of these men would betray their rightful kings for the Azruleans. 

“Prince Blanchefleur, Prince Isocrates, we are glad to see you are alive and well.” 

Fleur nods and dismisses the formalities. “It is not me that you should be glad to see.”

After making a small gesture to the soldiers behind him, helmets were removed, revealing King Damianos and King Laurent, as well as Prince Damocles. “I have restored our kings.”

The council members just about dropped to their knees right there. They must have been feeling something quite like what he felt when he finally realized that his parents were alive.

They all arranged themselves around the table into their proper placements of status, then Fleur spoke up. “Now, let us talk war. We are not going to roll over and let them take this from us. I will not stand for it, and neither will any of you. So let us get directly into the plans. I have been coordinating since I reached Hamar, and I have found the perfect strategy to lead us to victory.”

Fleur makes a gesture towards the door, someone walking in. The room broke into a panic upon realization, guards being called in immediately. The man stopped where he was by the door, swords and spears pointed at him. He wore the royal blue cape with a golden sun upon its middle, his helmet bearing a great blue crest of similar color overhead. His breastplate alone likely had enough metal in it to create a short sword. 

Apolotus stood there, making eye contact with no one but Fleur. Fleur allowed just the tiniest of smiles. “Please, do not taunt him with such meager party. He does not like teasing. Only a real fight will satiate him.” 

The soldiers seemed rather confused, their weapons loosening in their hands as they tried to figure out what to do with this man now.

“Come. We have too much to discuss to dilly with little soldiers. My people of the court,” Fleur stood from his seat. “This is my weapon. Prince Apolotus, of Azrule. Once named Captain of the Royal Azrulean guard, he is now at my every beck and call. He knows everything we need to win this war. He deserves our respect.”

The room went silent until someone decided to speak up. “This is an outrage. You cannot seriously expect us to accept this. He is one of them. And now you say he is one of us? How can he be trusted? What could he possibly do to prove he is not going to stab us in the back in the end and take us all out.”

Laurent’s eyes were on him. Fleur had been expecting this. But he knew how to deal with difficult people. “Do you not trust my word? Will you not believe your Prince when I say that this man has risked his very life to keep my own safe? That he had not turned and fought his own people for that reason. Then don’t. Isocrates.” He looks to his right at his brother who stood up as he sat down.

“Apolotus of Azrule would never have trained our soldiers with vital war training and strategy if he expected us to die, nor risked his own life for us to be here today. I place my trust in him as Blanchefleur does.”

Damianos then stood and pledged the same, Damocles hesitantly after. Laurent was the only one that did not. The council members looked to him.

“I hold no judgment for this man. He has proven many things, but I personally will not vouch for him. I will, however, stand with my sons and my husband. We have no choice. He is our best chance at winning this war.”

The council took a moment to themselves to discuss before they turned to the final man who had yet spoken. 

“Apolotus of Azrule. Do you hereby declare yourself no longer a soldier and captain of the Azrulean guard.”

Apolotus looked on at them, straight-faced. “I officially declare myself an Azrulean soldier no more, but an Azrulean prince seeking his throne.”

“And do you pledge to fight with us to reclaim the Marlas palace.”

“Yes.”

The council members seemed pleased by this. “Then come. We will need your acquired wisdom in this meeting.”

Later that evening, hours after the meeting adjourned with plans to meet again the next day, Fleur tracked down Apolotus, who seemed to have wandered out of the West gate and ended up down at the beachside. It was when he got closer to the shore that he realized that the man hadn’t gone alone. Beside him in the sand, sat none other than Nikandros, someone not even Fleur had expected. 

Fleur settled beside a rock and palm tree, just listening in on what he could. Though the waves dulled out much of their talk, Fleur still managed to piece some of it together. Something about honesty and loyalty in common. 

Luckily, he hadn’t been noticed when Nikandros stood and walked back up the trail towards the palace. Once the coast was clear, he removed his boots and stepped out onto the warm sand, walking towards the other still sitting, staring at the rippling waves. The man’s eyes did not sway even as he sat beside him. The weather was so warm, and yet there was a slight chill in the ocean breeze that blew over them.

“You did really good today,” said Apolotus. “Had it been anyone else, I would have been dead on the spot. You really do know how to turn a situation around.”

Fleur smiled and looked down at the sand as he crossed a leg under him. “Something I’ve always been able to do but never had to courage to speak loudly enough for everyone to hear. Especially with my own parents. I have you to thank for that.”

They sat in silence for a long while, just basking in the last rays of the day's sun, the cooler night breeze coming in. There were clouds some ways away, a storm likely brewing.

Fleur stood up and untied the cinch around his waist, letting it drop then pulling the tunic over his head. The tights came off quickly and he burst out into a sprint towards the water. He crashed into the waves as the tide came in and he still did not stop. He waded out until he was able to completely dive under. The water below was calm and soothing, and he could allow himself to just float there for a while before resurfacing. When he came up, he did not see Apollo sitting where he left him, nor any remnants of him, like clothing. 

Did he just up and leave? What a jerk.

And just as he was about to begin swimming back, he felt something wrap around his waist and pull him under. He fought for a second before he realized that it was Apolotus. The man had dove in, fully clothed. The cheeky bastard grinned at him under the water before letting him go. They both resurfaced with a great gasp for air. 

“You must be crazy. Why did you jump in like this?” Fleur said with a little smirk.

“So as not to entice you. I know you like the tease.” 

Fleur splashed him with water before pushing him down. They tumbled around in the water gradually coming closer to shore until they end up sprawled on the divide between wet and dry sand, laughing. Fleur wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt this good before. 

“Promise me...one day…” Fleur says, still a bit out of breath. “We’ll come back...and do this again.”

Apolotus said nothing, and Fleur didn’t want him to. It was just a silly promise, and he knew that it would never happen again, but it felt good just to ask it out loud.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

A week was spent in Ios planning, preparing for what was to come. More wagons were packed, others were resupplied. And then they were leaving, Fleur at the head of the massive army now marching through the Akielon countryside. There was no way now that the Azruleans didn’t know they were coming as soon as they came to the border of Ios. Even so, they continued moving alongside the borders of Patras, heading directly up towards Vask, where they would swing back through the mountains for their attack.

Apolotus was kept at Fleur’s side, with a close eye on him of course. They’d been caught on the beach by none other than Nikandros, who had come back after realizing he’d dropped and left his Kyros pin. Fleur had still been very much naked and both he and Apolotus were soaking wet with sea water. The man hadn’t told anyone about it, but he kept a sharp eye on Apolotus from that point on. He was being protective, Fleur had told Apolotus. Which was true. His Uncle Nikandros and himself had a very close bond, and it only made sense that he would act as such.

When they stopped for the first night and all had settled down for dinner, Nikandros was there, sitting between Fleur and Apolotus. And then after, when everyone was around the fire telling stories, drinking wine and singing, it was the same. And up until Fleur decided to retire, Nikandros was the one to walk him to his tent to assure he got there unharmed. 

Fleur yanked Nikandros into his tent when they arrived, pushing him down into the nearest chair. “Are you standing between me and Apolotus?” asked Fleur, crossing his arms as he stared the man down.

“Of course I am. You two were far too close last week on the beach. And you were...disrobed. You are far too young.”

“Oh? Is that so? I hear you and Papa were quite active in your younger years, even younger than I.” 

Nikandros immediately blushed a bright red in the low torchlight, looking away from Fleur. “Well uh...It’s...It’s different.”

“How so? I am not a girl. I have no way of bearing a bastard child. And even if I could, It means nothing to me.”

Nikandros seemed to tense at this. “He is an Azrulean, you have no business being so close with him. I am still wary that he will turn and stab you in the back. He's been in your shoes, being such a young age, with fluttering love interests. He knows and is wrapping you around his finger.”

Fleur stepped forward. “The same could have been said of my parents. I have had this talk already. Many times. I don’t see how it is not my own choice of what I decide to do. I am tired of people trying to make me change my mind and just go with them. I am firm in my decision, and whether you like it or not, he will be at my side. So you can stand between us all you want, you will only be hindering our progress. A civil war if you will.”

Fleur watched as Nikandros finally came to realize, just as his own father had, that he most certainly would not be changing his mind. This was his fate.

“You are either with me, or you aren’t. But don’t stand between us. You may leave when you prefer.” With that, Fleur walked past silk divider into his quarters, leaving Nikandros to ponder this for as long as he’d like. 

When Nikandros left, Apolotus came in. Fleur was just pulling on his robe when he pushed aside the silk. “You let him have it?” asked Apolotus, making himself right at home by sitting down on Fleur’s bed. 

“Of course I did. I am very tired of people getting between me and what I want,” said Fleur as he poured water into a goblet, taking a long drink before placing it down. 

“Still want me huh?” Apolotus leans back on his forearms as Fleur turned to face him. 

“Of course. And I am willing to wait. But I also need you on the field. It is not very efficient to go through five people just to get to you.” said Fleur as he sat beside the soldier. “I need you to be right here when I need you.” 

They both had a laugh before laying back on the cot. “...Are you...serious about waiting,” asked Apolotus.

Fleur turned his head to look at him, Apolotus looking back. “Well...Yeah. I mean, you’re...you’re everything to me. I know it’s...only been a few months, but knowing you now, my life will just never be the same. And I’ll miss you when you’re gone. And if later on, I can find my way back to you, I will. You probably don’t feel the same and...that’s okay. Because as long as I can be at your side, I could never be happier.”

Apolotus only smiled and looked at the ceiling of the tent. “You could do so much better than me. I’m flattered though.” 

“I can find any soldier to replace you, but none of them will be you. Stay the night, please. I am unbelievably stressed out dealing with all of these people. We can pretend it’s just us again.” 

Apolotus smiled. “I’d like that. It was easier when it was just us...and maybe your brother. When he wasn’t being a pain.” Fleur began giggling, unable to stop for quite some time. He was just getting a real kick out of it. 

“God he was such a prick when you two met.” laughed Fleur.

He realized then that Apolotus was laughing as well. He couldn’t recall ever having heard him laugh like this before, at least not with him. He’d seen him before, having his moments with Avilius and sometimes the other soldiers. Hell, even with Isocrates. But never with him. 

"You know everyone is going to talk if I don't leave, right?"

"Let them. They don't know us."

They ended the night with bright smiles before Apolotus stood to remove his belt and leather skirts, leaving him in just his subligaria. Fleur kept his robe on and they both squeezed onto the cot comfortably. It was a familiar feeling, enjoyable and comforting.

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The journey was long, but the mountain range was finally within their reach. They were a mere hour before reaching it when the scouts came in shouting about an attack. And behind them were hundreds of soldiers heading their way. 

Fleur thought quickly, getting the first troop in order to defend while the rest got prepared for the offense. It would have been the perfect move if another scout hadn't come from behind them calling for yet another attack from the rear. It seemed that they were being surrounded. As soon as another troop was ready, they were put up behind them. It didn’t matter how big their full army was, being surround was one of the ugliest possibly situations they could have been in. 

“This isn’t normal,” commented Apolotus. “This is not one of our maneuvers…” says Apolotus.

Fleur looked to his with the slightest flicker of panic within before reacting against it. “Prepare to fight for your lives, and for Akielos-Vere!” shouted Fleur. “We win or die here!”

There was silence before the crashing and clashing of swords and shields, the pounding of hooves, cries of men fighting and dying. Fleur was shooting from his position in the middle where he was being defended, shooting off anyone that got too close. Apolotus was among those fighting around Fleur’s retinue, his blade covered in blood. 

It was easy to tell that they were being overpowered. Fleur knew it, Apolotus knew, Everyone. Fleur watched as one of his silks went down, landing in the bloody mud only feet from him. A bad omen. Right then, his horse reared, stabbed through with a spear in the neck so deeply that it nearly reached him. He jumped from the horse before it fell onto it’s back, grunting a bit before standing, pulling his sword from its sheath. The fight with the man that took out his horse was brief, as the soldier had not known just how much more mind he’d have to put into dodging the teen.

Everything moved so quickly, and Fleur found himself on another horse, Apolotus’ horse, the man now fighting on the ground. He had to hand it to Apolotus, he was damn good no matter how he was fighting. There was a good reason he’d been captain at such a young age. 

And then, it was almost like a miracle. From atop his horse, Fleur saw a group coming towards the chaos. Large ponies by the hundreds bounding their way from the north. And then another group from the east on painted horses galloping at full speed. By elimination of his knowledge of his peoples, these had to be Vaskians coming from the North, and Dalmats coming from the east, likely having been coordinated. Fleur had his theories of Vaskians and the Wolvanians as a whole were in some way related and probably communicated. This was reinforcing that very idea.

He watched as the warriors tore through the flanks of unsuspecting--…

Fleur pursed his lips when he came to a final realization. “Capture the captains!” He yelled, hoping the message would be passed on. 

The battle was quickly won back over due to their unexpected reinforcements, the captains bound and dropped to their knees before him along with a few other captured soldiers. Fleur looked over the bunch, 12 in total, surveying every feature easily visible.

“Remove the helmets,” demanded Fleur, his voice as sharp as his eyes were wide and keen on unmasking these men. He probably looked like a madman.

Then the helmets were removed. Gasps and exclamations were made as helmets were torn from the men’s heads. These were not Azruleans.

Fleur’s eyes narrowed before he jumped from his horse, turning violently before walking briskly towards a man standing just feet away, drawing his sword swiftly. He pointed the sword at the man’s face, startling nearly everyone around them. 

Aturpat stood stock still, not even flinching when the sword was mere inches from him. The man seemed to be in shock, and he didn’t want to believe this either. But at this point, he had no idea what was real anymore. Who could he trust?

“Why are your people dressed as Azruleans.” Fleur was not asking.

“This is not possible. We would not…”

“Then look again and open your eyes. These are yours. Now get them to talk before I slice all of you open and leave you to die slowly.”

“Fleur.” Apolotus placed a hand on Fleur’s shoulder as if he were trying to calm him. “Don’t go too far,” he whispered.

“Too far you say? Really, this is too far? I come expecting to fight Azruleans, only to find that one of my allies men actually lay beneath the helmet like a wolf disguised as a bear. I would like to know what the fuck is going on. How are you expecting me to react?” he bit harshly at the man. 

Apolotus seemed to back off at this, looking hesitant. Fleur turned back to Aturpat. “Start talking. Now.”

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The camp was set up not far from the battlefield, the need to patch up the wounded far greater than the need to keep going. They had a massive question still floating around. Why were Perasians dressed as Azruleans? Nothing made sense as they thought they would be fighting the latter, being as they were the ones that overtook the palace...or so they think.

Fleur stood, arms crossed as he stared down Aturpat, who sat at the table, his hands luckily being unbound, though his legs were tied to the chair as a hindrance. Apolotus was among them, as was the Queen of the Dalmats. She had quite a bit to say about the situation at hand.

“So you’re saying that you saw them moving into Patras from the mountains?” asked Fleur, still staring only at Aturpat. The teen still wasn’t sure what to feel about this. Should he feel betrayed? The other seemed to have been completely unaware that his people were even involved, but even so, it could have been a facade. 

“Yes.” answered the Queen. This was his aunt, he realized somewhere deep in Fleur’s mind. There was little resemblance between them aside from their heterochromatic eyes. No one ever would have thought or known if they didn’t say anything. “This is why Vien had to come and receive you directly and I was not present. We were keeping a close eye on their movements. With the route they were on, they were headed directly for Akielos-Vere. We returned to prepare for war after you had gone.”

“I am glad you have come. Please, relax, recuperate. I will join you when I am finished here.” The Queen gave a small, polite nod before leaving the tent with Apolotus to further discuss some details.

“So Perasians were coming into the country after Azruleans. I wonder why that was. I suggest you better start talking.” said Fleur, his eyes sharp and piercing into the man across from him.

“You won’t hurt me, or you would have already…” said Aturpat, who was staring at the floor. 

Fleur didn’t even think before reacting, moving in with a knife pulled from his belt, jabbing it up just enough to make a little pinprick of blood dribble down the blade from the man’s chin. “Try me. Start talking.”

“I don’t know anything Fleur. I have no idea what this is or why it was my people coming to attack us dressed as Azruleans. I know nothing.” Aturpat didn’t seem panicked at all, even with a blade dangerously close to his neck. Fleur could read a person by his posture, easily. 

“Kill me if you want, it will solve nothing. I never knew about any of this. My father had talked a little about another trip to Akielos-Vere, but nothing more with me about it. It’s possible that when they heard that you escaped, they held off on moving in troops...they knew I would not stand for an invasion of Akielos-Vere. They waited until you called for me and I left. That has to be it. I cannot ever recall hearing anything. Because I would never have let this happen so long as there was breath in my lungs.”

He could tell the other was not lying. He knew nothing of this and his troops, who were now bound and captive in the middle of the camp, were completely offended by this gesture. They knew nothing of the attack. It made Fleur wonder just how Artebanu managed to pull off such a feat. 

“Please Fleur, you have to believe me...I know nothing. I’ll try getting it out of my father’s troops if you let me…”

“I do believe you. I just like seeing you quiver at the thought of me,” says Fleur with a smile.

Aturpat looked at him with a shocked face before it began to fade into a small amused smile. “Of course you do...I...I should have known you wouldn’t truly believe I could do this. I...I love you Fleur. And I am here with you until the end. I will take care of my own people so you don’t have to. If that is what you wish.”

Fleur felt rather...flattered to hear this. Though if he really thought about it, it was something that was due to happen eventually. They had been sending letters to each other for years, sometimes even with little gifts like pressed flowers and leaves, drawings they either did or had done. Fleur knew that in some way, he loved Aturpat too, but it was hardly the time for him to confess.

“I wish for you to stay beside me. We will handle this together.” Fleur knelt down to untie the rope from the man’s ankles before standing. “Were you truly afraid I would have you lashed at the stake...stoned, beaten?

Aturpat looked up at Fleur, who was still standing very close to him, almost intimately. “You are unpredictable. I’ll give you that much.”

“Everyone gives me that much. Especially my father. He’s kept a close eye on me since our competition some 6 years ago.”

Aturpat took his hand. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Delicate, like a little flower. But as deadly accurate as a viper’s bite, I came to find. Do you still have my pin?” It was a random question, but one long overdue to be asked. They hadn't had the time before and it must've just occurred to the man now.

Fleur raised a brow at this before lifting his hand and pushing it into the pouch he always kept on his belt. “You mean this old thing? Yes, I keep it to remind me of a boy I once knew. A most irritable, smart-mouthed prick. He was very smart...and very handsome. I wear it sometimes when I am feeling an ache of nostalgia.”

Aturpat took the pin and stood. Pushing back a lock of Fleur’s hair, he pinned the strands back, watching the gold flicker in the torchlight. “It really is as beautiful as I thought it would be.”

A clearing of someone’s throat startled Aturpat a bit, Fleur merely glancing over to the entrance of the tent. Apolotus stood there, eyes half-lidded and unamused looking. “The Vaskian’s wish to drink and talk of the war with you. Have you finished here?” The man asked, obviously eyeing Aturpat.

“Yes, I believe we are done here. Aturpat will question the captives. Release his direct men only. I will formally apologize to them myself when they come for dinner.”

“Very well,” says Apolotus.

“I will see you outside Aturpat. It seems my captain has a few words to discuss with me,” said Fleur. Aturpat looked at Fleur skeptically before nodding and walking outside. 

“I wear it when I am feeling the ache of nostalgia, huh? I had no idea you spoke as a poet. Nor did you ever actually feel anything besides the desire to play.”

Fleur raised a brow and smirked. “Is my captain jealous? My my, how the tides have turned. Do you not have your buddy to go fuck?”

“Did you not just tell me last night that you would wait? Or was that just a game to play with me. Do tell, because I would love to know what the fuck is going on with you for one second.”

Fleur shrugged a little, just smiling. “Yeah, I’ll wait. You get to fuck someone, so why can’t I have some fun in the meantime? I mean, how is it fair?”

Apolotus sighed and picked the bridge of his nose. “That isn’t…”

“Then what is. Talk to me. Do you not like me talking to other men that aren’t my family?”

“No. I don’t like that you...taunt and tease like a weathered wench. You tell me one thing one night, and the next I find you here with him…You know what, nevermind. You refuse to listen to what anyone has to say anyway. I prefer you don’t do anything stupid. So nevermind.”

Fleur took a step forward. “Avilius is right. You are an idiot.”

Apolotus blinked and looked at him, likely very surprised that the two ever even talked to each other when someone else was not present. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Have you really not paid attention to anything these past months? No, I do not listen to any man or woman...except one. I’m a stubborn bitch. A self-revolving, inconsiderate wench that listens to no one...but his soldier. You keep me steady and calm when I am ready to explode like an active volcano. Perhaps you are blind not to see that the lava never comes.” 

Apolotus seemed to realize this as he was likely thinking back to all of the times Fleur could have made stupid mistakes if he continued the way he had. If he told the teen to stay...he would.

“I suppose that is true,” admitted Apolotus.

“It is very true and you should accept it. If you tell me to wait, I will wait. If you tell me to listen, I will listen. You are the only one that makes sense to me. So for whatever stupid reasoning my mind has, I will consider your words over any others…including my own. So please. Tell me. Talk to me. If you want me to scream and make a fit over what you have to say, then it’s done. I will.”

“He loves you…” says Apolotus. “Will you waste that for me. Is that the stupid mistake you’re going to make?”

“And I love him. I do not know what I will do. I am still young, and I am certainly not ready for all of this, I have come to realize. Right now, I am going to whatever pleases me. So I will speak as I please, how I please, to whom I please. But one thing I know is that when you leave, I will wait. It doesn't matter who I meet. It is you that I will wait for.”

Apolotus mimicked his earlier expression with half-lidded eyes. “You make absolutely no sense.”

“And that is the fun of being young. Not a damn thing makes sense,” says Fleur with a grin. “Now, are we finished with this silly talk. I have a few things I need to do before I can take some wine.”

Apolotus rolled his eyes and smiled. “After you, your highness,” he says as he pulls open the flap of the tent, following him out as they both head towards the large fire at the center of the camp.

Fleur knew the other was still a little upset, but it was nothing they could not fix after the war. The two parted ways as Fleur made his way towards his parents and the Vaskians at the fire, and Apolotus to where the Perasian troops were being released. 

Fleur was quickly brought in by Damen, the man grinning from ear to ear almost like he had when his sons had made a great achievement. 

“Fleur, we have a few people we would like you to meet,” said Damen, gesturing for three Vaskian girls to come forward. They looked to be around Damos and Iso’s age. “This is Adelik, Gishel, and Cilika. They are your sisters. My blood.” 

Fleur’s mind flashed back to a beautiful blond teen of his age. Blood. Fleur smiled and went to greet them. He spoke in excellent Vaskian, no surprise to anyone. He sat down with the girls, learning as much as he could about them. They were indeed very strong women, but even so, still fawned over him as one would with a baby. He did not mind. They were not undermining his strength, so what was the harm?

He greatly enjoyed their company, taking a few goblets of wine with them, becoming familiar with their presence. Even in his drunken haze, he’d begun to wish they’d been in his life sooner. He could have used their kind of strength to become stronger himself. They treated him like one of their own, being rough, not afraid to give him a bruise or two. He liked this.

The night went smoothly, everyone celebrating their first won battle, and hoping that only one more lay ahead of them. They were only two days off now from Marlas, which was just on the other side of the mountains before them. Before retiring, Fleur looks to the mountain range, lit brightly by the full moon. Who knew what kind of havoc lay beyond here, but whatever came, they would be ready. He had an army of extraordinary people of all backgrounds and experiences. There was nothing they could not achieve now. 

“You’ll regret the day you even thought to take my home from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOO THAT WAS A WILD RIDE. I was hoping to give you guys a chapter worth coming back to after a while on an unannounced HIATUS. So I hope it was all worth it!  
> Don't forget, I always appreciate a coffee or two! Because as a college student, I live on them lmao https://ko-fi.com/sitical  
> Let's hope the next chapter does not take as long!!!!!


	21. Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come, and there is nothing left to do but fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD MORNING! Okay, it's morning for me lol. 
> 
> So, this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but thats okay right? It's got plenty of content??? I hope??? You all?? are?? satisfied???  
> Anyways, No this is NOT the last chapter....sorta.   
> I'LL SHUT UP NOW. ENJOY!

Passing through the mountains had been an anxious journey, no one really knowing whether or not to expect an ambush there. The entire armada split into two, Damocles, Isocrates, and Avilius lead the first that took the most direct route through. Fleur and Apolotus lead the second, opting to take a less traveled, winding road through the thickly forested peaks. At some point, the roads got so thin, they were riding only two in a row, the wagons they brought barely squeezing by.

It only took one time for Apolotus’ horse to nearly slip that he decided he’d rather everyone dismount and walk. There was no point in losing men here. So everyone, including himself and Fleur walked, their horses following behind them.

When they finally reached the other side, they had been expecting to see the other half of six thousand men. But instead, there was no one. Fleur felt a twinge of panic, wondering just what happened to his brothers and his men. And then his mind jumped to a conclusion.

“Avilius…” he said, eyes narrowing as he felt the rage build within.

Apolotus snapped to look at him but seemed to consider this before saying anything. “There is no way...He was on our side. He would never have done anything. I had his word.”

“Yes well, obviously he is not you. I never trusted him. If they do not turn up soon, we are going to be completely fucked in this final battle.”

So they waited, deciding to rest a while before they would move on. No one came. So with a heavy heart, Fleur decided to keep moving. The boy confided quietly in him that he wished his parents would be here to guide him, but knew it was best they remained in Ios for the time being. It would have done no good if the entire family died.

They were moving onwards, getting a few miles out from the mountains when a small group of riders was spotted in the distance. They were identified as Isocrates’ soldiers by their colors. The men came to Fleur to declare what news they had.

“Princes Isocrates and Damocles have decided to move forward. They are a few miles ahead and will begin the first engage of attack. His plan was for you to come in after as back up.”

Fleur seemed to give this some thought before nodding. ”Return to him. Tell him that if he doesn’t die at Marlas, I will kill him myself for going without me.” Apolotus smiles at this. 

The riders take fresh horses and begin their way back for the group ahead of them, Fleur and his army continuing on as they were. 

“I know you have no siblings, and honestly, you should be grateful you don’t. They’re more worry than they’re worth,” says Fleur to Apolotus, who only laughed.

Following the border of Akielos and Vere, it was not long before they saw in the distance, the growing city of Marlas. The amount of growth made in the past fourteen years had been tremendous, the desire to be in what was now known as the new capital of both countries was great. 

The city, much like the palace, was entirely made of up of intertwining Veretian and Akielon style and defined the tight bonding that Kings Laurent and Damianos had been striving for. But there was no longer lion and starburst flags hung proudly from homes and businesses. It was now the symbol of which Apolotus wore on his back, the shining sun on blue fabric, and an eagle with its majestically spread wings on orange, representing the Perasians. 

Instead of people bustling about with their daily lives, buying and selling in the markets, it was utter chaos within. A scout came back to them, confirming that indeed, Princes Isocrates and Damocles were among the battle, fighting.

Fleur swung his horse around to face his army. “Today is the day. This is the hour. We either kill every man in sight that has sided to take what is rightfully ours and win. Or we die here showing every last bit of might that we have in us to take back our capital. We will not give up until the last man falls. Do not let it be you who is the last man.”

Fleur nods to Apolotus, who also swings his horse around. “Position! Maneuver five! Do not let them break through! We storm them! From this point, the rest of your commands come from Avilius!”

Fleur and Apolotus ride around to the back of the widely spread maneuver position. And when all was ready, Apolotus gave the signal, and they all began to ride. Fleur glances at Apolotus. “Get us inside those walls.”

There was a great clash when the two sides collided, men falling, dying. And just as the maneuver called for, by far the most sophisticated one taught to them, they funneled Apolotus and Fleur deep into the streets of Marlas, bolting them straight for the gates of the palace. Apolotus felt the slightest tinge of pride when the maneuver succeeded, getting them right to the gates, which were already open, men fighting within.

Isocrates and few others were fighting off Perasians while Damocles and his group were at the great doors of the palace, trying their best to break down the doors. Fleur joined Isocrates while Apolotus went up to the doors.

“How long have you been at this?” The man asked. 

“A minute. They won’t budge. The windows are not a good option, but it's coming to it.” said Damocles.

Apolotus looks about for anything that they could use, then he spots a coil of rope on a man's horse. An idea hit.

“Find rope, chains, anything! As much as you can! Quickly!” Without a second thought, the men dispersed, grabbing the rope from their horses, or running back out the gates to find more strong ties. They came up with five pieces. “Tie them to the horses, like so.” He showed the best way to tie them on, the men following the same with four other horses, then the other ends of the rope were tied to the doors.

Damocles clapped a hand on Apolotus’ shoulder. “Smart, for an Azrulean.”

“Who said we weren’t smart?” said Apolotus with a grin.

They had the horses begin pulling, prying the doors the opposite way they were intended, but it wasn’t quite enough. 

“Damn it.” cursed Apolotus. The man gripped onto two of the ropes, braced himself and began pulling. The others quickly followed suit, the wood creaking until finally, one gave way and fell with a great crash. A couple of men pushed the heavy door off of themselves, injured, but alive.

The rest of them stormed inside, pooling and spreading into the palace, swords blazing. There were men there, waiting for them. Apolotus growled. “We have no time for this.” He heaved heavily with his sword, taking out a man with a single swing. He dozed his way through, heading into the hall. He had to find Decimus, but where would he be?

He ran, heading straight for the throne room. He had failed to notice by the time he reached it, he was alone, the others likely having gotten caught up in fighting.

The room, he realized as soon as he stepped inside, was absolutely massive, far more grand and expansive than that of the Azrulean empire’s. He could see now why this was such a valuable take for Azrule. 

There upon the throne sat none other than his king. The man he once considered his closest companion and something akin to his father. But at this time, they stood upon opposite sides of the spectrum. Apolotus was no longer naive to the cruel ways of this man. He figured that perhaps he had not always been so, but he was now and it was unacceptable. 

“Ah, Apolotus. I was beginning to wonder if I’d taught you anything at all. It took you long enough.” said Decimus, looking rather amused and relaxed there in his throne. 

“You don’t make it easy, but you know I always favored a challenge.”

“Hmm, yes, you always did fancy doing things you were not yet able to. A pup wanting to run before he could walk.”

Apolotus’ eyes narrowed. “Are we going to reminisce here all day? Or are we going to get down to business.”

“Right right. You have no patience for an old man like me. I have forgotten.” Decimus makes a signal towards the door to his left, a few men coming inside. Much to his surprise, one of them was dragging in a wriggling and writhing body, blonde hair a tangled mess, clothes ripped and askew. He most obviously had put up a fight all the way through until that moment.

“Wha--”

“Very good job you have done me, my boy. Not only have you brought me this rare, delicate flower on a silver platter to be mine, but the other heads of the remaining heirs. The kings will not last for much longer knowing their lineage is gone.”

Apolotus stopped breathing the moment he heard those words leave the mans mouth. Fleur, who had been giving every last bit of energy and fight into getting away, had frozen in place.

“Yes, that’s right dearest. He, who you thought a friend, was bringing you and your brothers straight back to me. You didn’t really think that he would leave me for you, did you? He isn’t stupid. Come Apolotus.”

Fleur looked to Apolotus, the sheer amount of deceit in his eyes made the man feel sick to his stomach. But Decimus was right. He wasn’t stupid. Apolotus looked to Decimus and began walking up towards his side. 

Fleur began to scream and fight from within his binds, eventually managing to get the gag out of his mouth. “HOW COULD YOU!” he screamed, voice crackly and shaking with rage.

Apolotus apologized in his mind, standing before Decimus now. “I have done what was most beneficial for you, My King. They all will die here.”

“You were always different from the others. A mind well ahead of his time. Good job.” Decimus said, stepping down, coming close to his soldier. “My proudest prodigy and heir.” 

“Fitting really, for the way things work in Azrule, Kings kill to be King, there is no royal bloodline to support the throne. The strongest rule with strength, and you dear father have become weak.”

Decimus gives him the slightest hint of confusion. “What do you mean, boy.” 

“None of this makes sense to me. Since even before you were king, you always had me fooled that you were a fair sort of man. You gave a dying orphan the chance at a better life. You were the best captain.” He eyes the man, stepping back to look over him.

“And yet...here we are, taking the land of those that do not belong to us. Pillaging through villages and cities until the kingdom falls and it is ours for the taking. Why is it that we did this? Surely we did not do this for Azrule. These lands are hardly worth our time. They are not close to us. They do not bear necessity to us. Perhaps it is there to behold as a trophy of sorts. The most dominant in all of the lands.”

Decimus now saw just where this was going. “Your morality now decides to show itself? You were there right along with me boy. Do not try me with this.”

“Perhaps I was. But I was naive, blinded by the promise you gave me for a better life and to better my country. And now, I question why. Why do we do this? Why have you come into alliance with Artebanu to take Akielos-Vere.” With every word, he took a step closer, practically sliding himself closer and closer to the man.

Decimus did not have to speak, as someone else came into the room from behind the thrones. “Because he knew that he did not have the connections to make it a reality.”. Artebanu was dressed lavishly as he always was but in the style of armor. “Azrule had no ties to Akielos-Vere, no insiders. Perasia did.”

Apolotus’ eyes narrow. “Then why are there no Azrulean soldiers.”

“Because as Azruleans, we do not fight for a man with no morality.” came a man from behind Apolotus.

It was Avilius that stood at the doors, tossing shackles onto the brilliant marble flooring, the chains and cuffs busted open. “We are not dishonorable, and our king would not stand for defiance.”

The doors swung open fully, behind him stood a hundred very pissed off Azrulean soldiers, all rubbing their wrists where tight cuffs once held them. “He imprisons his own men and takes others to run under him.”

Decimus smirked just a bit. “Avilius, I did not take you as a fool as well.”

“That is because I am not.”

“Then you will know that if you even step inside of that door, I will kill this lovely little one here.” He says, gesturing to Fleur who was fighting once more to break free of the grip on his body. “It is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

Avilius only grinned. “He holds no leverage over me.”

Apolotus knew just by the tone of the man's voice, that was a cue. There was a plan. Avilius knew the way Decimus worked. He could calculate the man’s moves before he would even make them.

Just as predicted, an arrow shot from a window above and hit the man holding Fleur in the middle of the forehead. Fleur scrambled to get off the dais, making a dash for Apolotus. But he never made it, being shot down immediately by one Artebanu’s men that came in from the servant’s halls. 

Apolotus watched as Fleur went down, and next thing he knew, all he was seeing was red. He drew his sword, catching another that Avilius threw to him so that he was wielding two. He faced Decimus. “Draw.”

“It was not I that shot him.” argued the man with an uncaring smile.

“DRAW!” Apolotus roared, his chest heaving with rage. The archer was about to shoot him down, only to be shot first by their own secret archer, who had changed positions to elsewhere in the massively tall throne room. 

Decimus drew, as did Artebanu. “Very well,” said Decimus.

Apolotus did not care if there were two of them. He did not care that they had far more years of experience on him. All he knew was that they would both die, even if it killed him as well. Apolotus dove in, slashing heavily at Decimus, while actively dodging Artebanu. It was not easy, and he got nicked, but he escaped, only to go back in again. The fight, though it felt as though it were in slow motion, was going at such a speed, there was no way they could keep it up.

They didn’t. Artebanu no longer being in his prime, began to tire, Decimus still being able to dance his way out of Apolotus slashing hits, never once raising his sword. The freed Azrulean soldiers charged in, killing what was left of the Perasians, then stood to guard all entrances to the throne room, and watched on as the three men fought. They knew better than interfere in a duel between kings.

The soldiers were in awe, watching Apolotus being on the defense and offense, actively fighting and dodging attacks, two massive swords in hand. But he began to tire. He was losing his steps, unable to catch his breath again after so long.

Everyone was too distracted, either by guarding the doors or watching the fight unfold, they did not realize it until it happened. Fleur flew in like a lightning bolt, stabbing into an unexpecting Artebanu. There was not enough strength in the boy to completely stab through completely, but it was still enough to make the man drop his sword and cry out in agony. 

Even so, the man swung around and hit Fleur over the face using his momentum with his fist, knocking the boy to the ground. Artebanu picked up his sword, holding onto his back where he’d been stabbed, and with one hand he brought the sword down into Fleur’s abdomen.

The cut was not deep, however, as it was just tip of it sliding into Fleur’s side, Artebanu lost grip, being as he was just shot in the head. The shooter finally revealed themselves from where they’d been hiding, showing it was to be none other than Aturpat. The man disappeared back to where he’d gotten up in there in the first place, likely to rush down to the ground.

Apolotus, in this time, was now able to put all of his strength and energy into fighting Decimus. He was pushing the man back, his skill being put to full use. And when he got his chance, he knocked the sword from the king’s hand and sliced his leg, forcing him to fall.

With a complete lack of any empathy, Apolotus ran Decimus through the chest. Decimus let out a choke filled with blood. The man only grinned, despite the amount of pain he was likely feeling. 

“You finally...did it. I’m proud of you son,” said Decimus, blood running from his mouth. “I’m proud…”

Apolotus pulled his sword from Decimus when the light finally faded from his eyes, throwing it aside before turning around. He rushed directly to Fleur’s side, lifting the boy’s body to his, placing his hand over Fleur’s where it was seeping blood. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” said Apolotus, looking at Fleur, who was barely conscious.

“So I’ve heard…” Fleur managed with a little smirk. “But they were catching up on you. No one would have...come for you.” The boy winced, the pain overtaking him for a second.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. Take it easy. We’re getting you to a physician. Hold on.” 

“I don’t think I’m going to make it...after all that. It hurts so bad...and not at all…” says Fleur, breathlessly.

“Shut up.” Apolotus lifted Fleur up, and began to run, knowing there would be a physician nearby outside the palace. “Stay with me. Stay awake.” He kept saying, like a mantra. It was more for himself than for Fleur, who was no longer listening and was focusing more on his pain. 

The halls were a blur, the light outside the palace was blinding, which only made the search for a physician less memorable. All Apolotus remembered was placing the teen down on a bed and being pried from him and dragged out of the room. 

The hours that followed, he didn’t remember much. He followed through with getting his men under control. The Azruleans, through a greatly detailed story from those that witnessed the fight first hand, immediately kneeled for Apolotus and he was quickly named the new King. 

With the help of Damocles and Isocrates, arrangements were made for their stay. Though the palace and the city around it were in complete disarray, the princes promised to accommodate them and make sure they were sent off well and was supplied. The estimation was one week, long enough for the Kings to arrive and personally thank him.

Apolotus remained at Fleur’s side for that full week, only leaving when it was a necessity. The teen was very lethargic and was in and out of consciousness constantly. No one knew if he would make it after receiving those wounds, but Apolotus never gave up. He lay there every moment he could at his side, whispering to him, stroking his hair, pressing cool damp towels to his sweaty forehead. 

The man refused to believe that Fleur would give in so easily. There were a few times they thought they would lose him. Then one night, he awoke to find beautiful brown and blue eyes staring at him from across the pillows.

“Hello, lover...”

# ⚚⚚⚚⚚

The Azrulean army was ready and waiting outside when Apolotus stepped into Fleur’s room for the final time. The teen was propped up in bed, the elaborately designed covers resting over his lap. He wore a loose robe colored in a gentle pink, green embroidered vines slithered and twirled along its edges. Long blonde hair was pulled up into a loose bun, making him look soft and harmless. He was far paler than he normally was, but was slowly regaining the pink in his cheeks.

Apolotus stared at him as he made his over to his bed, kneeling down gently at his side. “How do you feel?” the man asked, smiling at him.

“You are leaving….so not well. What did you expect?” said Fleur. He, of course, was playing around, but at the same time was rather sad. He hated that he could not leave his bed to send the other off.

“I do not feel well either, leaving you. But, we cannot impose on you any longer. We only prolong the reconstruction and clean up here.”

“Do not be ridiculous. You do not have to leave, and you know this. But I suppose your men want to go home. Anyone would want to after all of this.” 

Apolotus nods. “Yes, we are all anxious to return for many reasons. I feel it is best that we leave now. Even if I do not want to.”

Fleur holds out his hand, Apolotus taking and holding it in his, a rough thumb running over soft skin. “I will miss you dearly. You have been there for me during three of the most trialing months of my life. You never once gave up on me” 

“And I will you. Though you like to be a difficult little shit, you will always be on my mind. You would be too hard to forget.”

They remained this way for a long while, just staring at each other, their eyes saying everything that they could not. Then, Fleur began pulling on Apolotus’ hand, the man not resisting as he was drug closer until he was on the bed. Carefully, the teen leaned forward, placing the lightest of kisses next to the man’s lips. 

“Please don’t forget me...Because I know in my heart...you will never leave me.” Fleur whispered. 

Apolotus pulled him closer until he was breathing on his neck, his fingers tangling into his loose hair. “Never.” He said, the warmth of his breath making Fleur’s skin tingle. And just as he had, Apolotus placed a single, gentle kiss to his cheek before retracting and standing.

“Goodbye...Blanchefleur.”

Fleur forced back the tears that he felt coming, holding it all back. “Goodbye...idiot. Do not die.”

And then he was gone. Fleur wasn’t sure he would ever see that man again, but that didn’t stop him from smiling when he finally let the tears slip down his cheeks. 

When he heard the horns blare from below, he laughed. He could only feel joy, knowing that he had done this. He had lived, grown, fought and won. From start to finish, he saw it through and did it. All because of one man that did not give up on him. 

Hours later, after sitting in complete silence, lost in only his thoughts, he called for a servant. 

“Bring me a scribe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Love it?? Leave me some love with a comment!  
> And feel free to drop me a coffee or two!! https://ko-fi.com/sitical


End file.
